


Synergy

by Ausp_ice



Series: Chrysalism [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Cover Art, Digital Art, Gen, Modern Mythic AU, Nonbinary Upgraded Connor | RK900, Other, Platonic/Familial Intimacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ausp_ice/pseuds/Ausp_ice
Summary: Months after the demon situation was resolved, Connor aches to be closer to Nines. Closer than the demon had been during the possession.So close as to be one.(Or, Connor and Nines learn how to fuse.)
Relationships: Connor & Elijah Kamski, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Elijah Kamski
Series: Chrysalism [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790401
Comments: 86
Kudos: 46





	1. Inception

**Author's Note:**

> While I was sharing this story in the New ERA server, I was suddenly struck with the thought that these two would absolutely want to become a singular entity. The logical progression of how their relationship has developed, really. Plenty of people, including myself, were very enamored with the idea, though I was still waffling about whether to pursue it. 
> 
> Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken), then, helped a bunch with thinking about how they'd come around to the idea, and I eventually decided: screw it I'm gonna go for it  
> so. Here we are.  
> She's also betaing for this fic! Many thanks to her for helping me brainstorm a whole bunch of ideas, too :'D
> 
> Cover art is posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/02fz4qoamslf).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words: 1257

* * *

It's been almost five months since the incident with the demon—Connor's taken to calling her Demonda in his head, to Nines's endless amusement—almost five months after Nines became immortal. 

Progression on their education has been going pretty well; Nines has already started studying the more arcane details of arcane arts, like spellmaking. Connor's made pretty good progress in his studies, too—with his accelerated plan with the university, he can probably get his forensics degree by next year. Not to mention the books Kamski's given him on supernatural investigations.

Of course, both Connor's and Nines's general sorcerous studies have been moving along swimmingly, as well. Kamski suggested they start thinking about a 'style,' too—apparently, most immortal individuals curate a particular aesthetic whenever they go out in public. "If we're going to live forever, might as well do it in style," Kamski said at that time, shrugging. 

Their mentor's… 'extraness' makes a little more sense now. Connor had a moment of contemplation about whether he cared about being that excessive—Nines certainly didn't, his brother gets along with self-expression like a house on fire—before he decided, _You know what, why not._

He's been trying things like business-casual wear, dress shirts, trench coats. It's pretty fun, honestly, considering that he has Nines to help him make his vague design ideas into reality. Usually with some gold highlights, since that's the primary color of his magic. 

Nines makes a bunch of outfits that are an interesting blend of minimalism and flowiness that Connor's not sure whether he'd look more in-place in a fantasy or sci-fi setting. Plus pale blue highlights. 

Life has been peaceful, really. Everything is going well. And yet… 

Both of them are still affected by the events of the past. Thrust into the netherworld, underworld, Hell, whatever whoever wants to call it. And Connor—experiencing the thoughts and emotions that were his, but not. Bent to another will so seamlessly that he couldn't separate what was _him_ and what was _her._ It terrifies him, remembering how ready he was to kill Nines. How close he was to doing so. How close he came to true death, himself. 

The memories have left scars on their soul, reflections of both the soul damage and mental trauma. Nines can detect the aberrations easily, now that he's been developing his soul magic, too. When they're together, and especially when they're feeding, the distant ache is—less. Soothed by the comfort of connection, soothed by the familiar presence of nearly-melding minds. 

They're getting better. And that's good—it's good, but… 

Connor wonders. About the… experience he had with Demonda. She had burrowed into his soul so deeply, deeper than Nines has, even. Because he and Nines are still always _Connor and Nines._ But the possession… he was _one._

The thought grates against his mind. It hadn't, at first, before he thought about the depth of the possession. But slowly, as time passed, his mind traitorously wants—more. He doesn't want anyone, anything to have ever been closer to him than Nines was. Traitorously, he wants to be _one_ with his twin. 

The thought unnerves him. He pushes it to the back of his mind whenever he feeds, because he and Nines are already close, close enough that Kamski had thought of them as codependent at one point, probably close enough to raise a few eyebrows. Connor doesn't care about that—he loves his brother, and he won't let anything get in the way of that. He loves his brother, but he thinks there's a line to be drawn at wanting to become _one._

Obviously, Nines finds out. The desire becomes too strong to ignore, and one night, ten or so minutes into a feeding right before sleep, while Connor is slowly sucking at Nines's neck, savoring the flavor, the closeness, their mental blending—it's then that some part of Connor wishes for them to be even closer. Closer than Demonda ever was. So close that they are indistinguishable. Strong, confident, powerful, complete… Souls, reunited.

He feels the surprise from Nines echoing from across their bond. Nines tightens his grip on Connor's back, inhaling sharply. Connor can feel the muscles of his brother's neck tense at the movement. 

Connor panics, immediately withdrawing his fangs to press his tongue to the bite instead to help it heal— _Sorry, that's really weird, don't worry about it, things are fine as they are, I'm happy—_ but Nines stops him by pressing a hand lightly to the back of his neck.

 _No, no, hold on a moment._ Nines gathers himself from the haze he tends to lose himself in during the feedings, the dreamy landscape of his mind gradually sharpening into crisp resolution. He sinks into Connor's mind, tracing the thought, the desire, the origin. His grip tightens, and though he doesn't say anything, Connor can see the gears starting to turn in his brother's mind. 

And Connor can _feel_ a desire mirrored in Nines, sparked from Connor's own. It sinks deep into his brother, deep into his soul, and the trail of it leads Connor to—to that _yearning_ for closeness, so, so intense. It's always been there, waxing and waning but never fully gone.

Nines has often felt his emotions rather paradoxically—intensely and distantly, in a way that sometimes even Nines doesn't fully understand. And Connor sees, now.

Nines wants it, too. That singularity. And he wants it _bad._

Connor is relieved, really. A small part of him wonders how far is too far, but neither of them want to stop, so he's just—relieved. That he isn't alone in his desire. That for this, like everything else, Nines will meet him halfway. All the way. That Nines is always right with him. 

_Of course. Of course,_ Nines answers in his mind. _Always._ He's already starting to drift again, mind pulling fragments of knowledge from the books he's read, from what Kamski has told them. It's like watching the inner workings of a complex machine, and Connor is always fascinated by it. 

Nines huffs amusedly. _You say—think that, but your mind is just as fascinating to me. In any case, I have an idea of where to start. Now let me go so I actually can._

Connor lifts himself from Nines's neck in a wet pop. The bite is mostly healed, anyways; Connor was just lingering there. "What, right now?" he asks, meeting Nines's eyes.

 _Yes, right now,_ his brother rolls his eyes, _I won't be able to sleep with all these ideas in my head._

"Mm, okay…" Connor pulls away and starts helping Nines massage feeling back into his limbs, "I'll stay with you though. If you conk out, I'm bringing you back to bed." 

Nines hums, clenching and unclenching his fists as he regains full control of his movements. "Fair enough. Come on, then, let's go to the lab." 

Connor makes a sound of agreement, and without further ado, both of them are wrapped in shadows, before reappearing inside the lab. Nines immediately goes for the Library Table, as Connor's taken to calling it, pulling up five different references instantly. 

This is going to be a long night, huh? Connor sits on one of the benches to join Nines. "Can I help?" he asks. He's not as familiar with magic theory as Nines is, but he'd like to think he has pretty good intuition. Plus, he's the one to have actually experienced the possession. 

Nines blinks, glancing over to Connor. "I—of course." He draws closer, pulling the holographic screens between them. "Here, what do you think if we—…"

They don't sleep at all that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a comment from Lunar that amused me to no end:  
> Connor internally: Nope not doing it. Not talking about it. This is weird, I'm weird, just,,, weird,,,  
> Nines @ Connor: :O This is everything I never knew I wanted let's do it right now


	2. Construction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurtling towards singularity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~1200

Nines can actually stay awake for a day or two without experiencing too many of the usual effects of sleep deprivation. Maybe even longer. It's a new development ever since he became immortal—he thinks it has to do with the regenerative abilities the Elixir has given him. That's not to say it isn't unpleasant to stay awake so long; he'll still try to get his nine or so hours a day if he can, but if there's something he wants to do, the need for sleep is no longer much of a deterrent. 

Plus, he gets really hungry. It seems he recovers energy through either food or sleep, and one can cover for the other with his current state of being. The lack of one, on the other hand, will increase the need for the other. 

In any case. He and Connor are still developing the structure of the spell by the time they usually get up to have breakfast, it seems, because suddenly, Kamski appears in a whirl of smoke, dressed in his casual robes, hair down. 

Both Nines and Connor look up from the model of the spell's internal array—a magic hologram formed from the table's projectors. "Hello, Mr. Kamski," they say. 

Their mentor raises an eyebrow. "How long have the two of you been down here?" 

"The entire night," Nines shrugs. "We… discovered a mutual desire during feeding and are working together to fulfill it."

"Is that so?" Kamski approaches, arms folded into his sleeves. He holds out one hand once he's at the table, and Nines reluctantly passes the model to him, pushing the projection over to him. 

Their mentor turns it around in his hands, tracing the path of the circles, arcs, lines, nodes. "A decent skeleton, so far…" His movements slow, a contemplative expression making its way onto his face. "What, exactly, is your mutual desire?"

"We want to be one," Connor answers. "A singular entity. A little like how the demon possessed me, but—I want something _more_ with Nines."

"I won't allow a demon to achieve a greater unity with my brother than I have," Nines mutters. He feels—something. Something that feels… different. It takes a moment for him to identify it as _possessiveness,_ and he regards his observation of the emotion with a detached surprise.

Connor puts a hand on Nines's arm. It's fine, he doesn't say, not in verbal thoughts, but Nines feels it anyway. 

Kamski, on the other hand, is watching them with a carefully impassive expression. "I have to say," he starts slowly, "The thought had crossed my mind that the two of you might want something like this. But perhaps not so soon." 

Nines grips the table. "Are you going to stop us?" 

Their mentor sighs softly. "I doubt I could, reasonably." He spins the array in his hands. "I think… this could be very interesting. No such spell has been constructed before, to my knowledge. At least, not successfully." He hums, setting his hands on the table. "No, I'm going to help. Partially to make sure the two of you stay safe. Body modification and soul manipulation can be very dangerous if done wrong. And… heh, well. I'm curious to see what will happen." 

Nines exchanges a glance with his brother. "That's… well, not really surprising, actually," he mutters. 

"Excellent!" Kamski claps his hands together, once. "Well, let's get you something to eat first, shall we? You must be starving by now, Nines."

Ah. Yes, well. That's not incorrect. Especially considering he hasn't eaten after the feeding.

Kamski laughs at the look that must be on Nines's face. He comes around the table, laying a hand on both Nines's and Connor's shoulders. "Food first. And then we'll dive in." 

* * *

They tell Chloe what they're doing over breakfast. 

She blinks at them. "The two of you want to fuse?"

Connor opens his mouth, lifting a finger. He puts it down. "I—yeah. Yeah, I guess?"

"I suppose that is pretty much what we're going for, here…" Nines mumbles. 

Chloe laughs. "Well, good luck! Stay safe, okay?"

"Okay," they say in unison, and that's that.

Once they're back in the labs, one of the first things that Kamski has them do is make the spell reversible. "It's one of the most crucial aspects of spell construction, for things that modify a state of being. Even if things go wrong the first time, as long as it's completely reversible, the situation can be salvaged. Plus," he tilts his head, "The two of you need to be able to separate. No matter what."

… Fair enough.

Though it does make the construction significantly more complex. Every thread forward must have a thread back, then, and it makes progress slow. 

Still, they _do_ make progress. Kamski ensures Nines sleeps properly, and both he and Connor continue their other lessons. But nearly all their free time is devoted to constructing the fusion spell, as days turn to weeks, to a month, then two. 

The anticipation buzzes through both of them at every feeding. _Soon, soon, soon. Soon we'll be one._

Before long, they get to testing. They start with inanimate objects. Turns out, a triangular pyramid fused with a sphere will make a rounded triangular pyramid. They then try it on a few plants, fusing and unfusing them, making sure there aren't any lasting adverse effects, making sure they grow properly before, during, and after the fusion. 

And then, finally, just about three months after that night of inception, they're finally, finally ready. They're in the atrium—it's the room with the strongest magic insulation, after all—and Kamski is with them. 

It's their birthday, too. August 15. Neither of them actually brought it up with Kamski or Chloe—they never really thought to mention it. Besides, it's something they've always celebrated with each other, _only_ each other, really, ever since their parents died. 

It feels… right, for them to do this today. The day they came into the world. The day they met, the day two halves of a soul were brought into life. And now, it'll be the day they finally come back together. 

"If anything feels wrong, unfuse immediately," Kamski says, pulling Nines out of his thoughts. "If you can't, let me know and I'll do it for you. And no matter how good it might feel, you have to unfuse after 24 hours, okay?"

Both of them nod. Connor is nearly vibrating where he stands, his anticipation making him restless. Nines can understand the sentiment—it feels as though a current of electricity is running through him. 

"Alright." Kamski steps back, giving them space. "Whenever you're ready." 

Nines takes Connor's hands in his own, and both of them call their magic to the forefront. Nines takes the lead on structuring the spell, pulling up the array in his mind, Connor supporting him, making sure he hasn't missed anything. 

_Ready?_

_Ready._

Nines activates the spell, and—his breath leaves him in a rush as their magic collides, sparking, reacting, mutating the array almost organically. Almost as if by instinct. He—they—glow brightly, they feel weightless, they feel like nothing and everything as they rush towards each other, physically, mentally, wholly. 

And then, they are— 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger :>
> 
> also, the stars really aligned for this to land right on their birthday, haha! I wasn't originally planning on it, but I checked the timeline, and, well. 
> 
>   
> You probably can't see a darn thing. Full size [here](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/553631974934446101/728824025245024268/unknown.png).


	3. Unity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2941

The first thing he—they? become aware of is that they are lying on the cold floor. The next thing is a frantic voice, a hand turning them over. 

"—an you hear me? Connor. Nines—"

"Mr. Kamski?" Their voice sounds… different. Not quite like Connor's, not quite like Nines's. But also like both, and considering they are similar in the first place… hm. They blink their eyes open, seeing their mentor leaning over them. 

Kamski blinks in surprise. "Your eyes…" 

Their eyes? They sit up, taking stock of themself. Kamski's hand remains on their shoulder. 

Lifting their hands up, they see that their nails are black, like Nines's. But slightly pointed, like Connor's. The clothes they're wearing seem to be a strange blend of what they were wearing before—Nines's black turtleneck shirt and Connor's loose white sweater looks to have become a high-necked, slightly more form-fitting sweater, gray in color. 

They press fingers to their wrist, and they're half-surprised, half-not to feel a pulse. It's slow, very slow. Maybe around 30 beats per minute. They wonder… they stick their thumb into their mouth, carefully running the pad of their thumb across their canines. More pronounced than Nines's, less than Connor's. 

It's at this moment that it finally sinks in. "We succeeded?" They put a hand on their chest, reaching deep inside them. To their—soul. Souls? Soul? It's hard to tell, so wonderfully blended as they are. It feels… it feels like…  _ completion.  _ Like when they were feeding, meeting into each other, but even more, and so seamlessly. They truly can't tell where one ends and the other begins. 

The sound that escapes them is possibly something like excitement. They're grinning, now, smiling so hard that their face nearly hurts, arms wrapped around themselves. "We succeeded!" If it weren't for Kamski's grip on their shoulder, they might have been rolling on the floor by now. 

"Focus, you two. Or one, I suppose, now…"

They tamp down their excitement, neatly wrapping it up for later. 

… Connor's never been able to do that all that well. Interesting. 

"Sorry, Mr. Kamski," they say. 

"No matter." Their mentor shakes his head. "How do you feel? Anything concerning?"

They blink. "No, I—we? feel… amazing." They flex their hands. "Though I'm still not sure if we're a 'we' or an 'I.' It's… strange." 

"Hm. I'm sure you'll figure it out." Kamski shifts, letting go of them to hover his hands over their chest. "Your magic acted strangely right before the fusion," he mutters. "Hold still, I'd like to check something." 

They nod, but Kamski's hands are already flickering with the black smoke of his magic. It's… huh. There's something different about it. Or maybe the way they're perceiving it. It's almost like it's… radiating a wavelength or something like that. 

They're drawn out of their musings by Kamski's voice. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong. Though," he huffs, "Your reserves of magic are abnormally high. Leaking, really. I doubt it'll cause many problems at the moment, but it's something you might want to work on if we do this again." He taps his chin. "Try casting a simple manifestation spell for me, will you?"

"Okay." They hold their hand out, and then pause. Nines's primary affinity is ice, essentially—cold and water—while Connor's is both light and heat. Where does that put them?

Actually… a thought occurs to them. That could be fun… it's rather rare as a natural affinity, or the manifestation of one, but, well. 

They focus their magic, and it feels—exhilarating. Like coming alive, like two droplets of water drawing together into one—wavelengths seem to waver around them, but they focus it into their hand, where a brilliant white flame flickers into existence, floating slightly away from their skin. It's cold, instead of warm. 

Kamski blinks at the flame, hovering his hand closer. "Cold fire," he murmurs. "Fascinating. A mix of both of your affinities…" He hums. "That's enough for now." 

They dismiss the flame, curling their hand into a fist. Kamski watches them, expression unreadable, before he uses two fingers to trace a spell into the air. He uses his other hand to lift their right wrist, and the magic settles in a ring around them, black smoke resolving into  **24:00:00** , but only for a moment before it starts ticking down. 

"One day. That is the limit for now. Understood?"

They nod. "Understood, Mr. Kamski." 

Their mentor pulls back, letting their wrist go. The smoke fades away, but they can still feel the lingering spell. Pulling at it… yes. The timer coalesces again, and releasing their hold makes it fade. 

"So," their mentor starts. "What should I call you?" 

They blink. "Er." He can't call them Connor or Nines, since they're  _ both _ at the same time. So, what? A combination of their names, maybe? 

Definitely not Cones. 

"We'll let you know if we think of something," they say. "You can call us by one or both of us for now." 

Kamski sighs. "Fair enough. I'll let you be now, feel free to wander. Let me or Chloe know if you need anything."

"Of course," they nod. "Thank you, Mr. Kamski." And without further ado, they call their magic to step into their own room— 

Only to nearly faceplant on the floor when they try to shadowstep and sunstep at the same time. They're caught by Kamski as, once again, something seems to  _ waver  _ around them. Their mentor frowns. "What was that?" 

They straighten. "We tried to shadowstep and sunstep at the same time." They lift a hand to cover their face. "Foolish of us. Completely different modes of travel." One is through shadows and the other is as light, after all. "Not sure what that waver-y thing is, though."

Kamski's eyes narrow, just slightly. "Hm." He lets go of them, tapping his chin. "Try a spatial teleportation, will you?" 

They tilt their head. Neither of them have a spatial affinity, but they  _ have  _ learned the theory. Both of them have been able to cast simple spells, but it's very tiring. Still, it doesn't hurt to try. They call their magic forward, and the wavelengths shift, changing, and with a kaleidoscope of magic—they're in their room. 

That… wasn't that hard at all, actually. Interesting. Maybe Nines and Connor's souls react together to make something more, something none of them expected? Come to think of it, according to Nines's studies, it's rare for sorcerers to have more than one strong affinity. Nines has cold and water, primarily. Darkness and soul, as secondary affinities. Connor is heat and light, with an affinity to blood thanks to his vampirism. That's… seven. Quite a bit. Excessive, even, possibly. Maybe it's enough for them to get close to  _ pure  _ magic. Reality-influencing.

Nines is also aware that excessively powerful beings that are able to influence reality often drift away from it as well. But they're very much here in reality, that's for sure. And they just cast a spatial spell that neither Connor nor Nines were able to do alone. Hm. 

They make their way to the body-length mirror on the wall—Nines had insisted they get it so they can see for themselves how they look in all their outfits, but Connor probably likes it even more. No one can say that Connor isn't vain, as much as he tries to convince himself he's not. They find the thought oddly amusing and mortifying—and, well, Nines is vain, too.

Yes, but he's not in denial about it. 

When they get close enough in the mirror to see themselves, the first thing they notice is their eyes. The irises are Nines's icy blue in the center, and Connor's warm brown on the outside. Their pupils are like Connor's—slitted, if widened at the moment to a more round shape. Though, if Connor knows how to change his eyes consciously… yes. Their pupils are thin slits now, ringed by the blue and brown. Very, very interesting. 

Their ears are pointed slightly, too—just enough that they could probably pass as human. Connor can shift those, but it's more comfortable to leave them as they are. 

They bare their fangs—as expected, they're a little longer than Nines's. Though… with a soft  _ shick,  _ they're at full length, just about the length they are whenever Connor bites Nines. Does that mean they still need blood? 

Wait, if Connor only needs to drink Nines's blood, and all of Nines's blood is in this body, do they still need to drink? Can they drink their own blood? 

Wait, can they eat?

"Having fun?" They startle slightly at Kamski's voice behind them, turning around to meet their mentor's eyes. 

"Mr. Kamski." They blink. "Oh! We were able to cast the teleportation spell. We suspect that our magical ability exceeds the ability of most individuals on this plane of existence. We may be able to access many different kinds of magic, kinds we couldn't use before, by manipulating the wavelengths. Do you know what we're talking about? When you cast your spell, it seemed to radiate something like that. Neither of us were able to see it before. I think Nines had a sense of it, though." They put a hand on their chest. "And we… it feels like we have a lot, and it keeps  _ shifting."  _

Their mentor's right eyebrow had started rising during their explanation, continuing to climb until they finished. "An interesting theory. And possibly concerning…"

"If you're worried that we might drift from reality from our sheer power, I think we're okay? We feel quite solidly  _ here."  _

"Hm. Noted," Kamski murmurs absently. "But considering that it's only been a few minutes since you fused, it would be wise to keep an eye on the possibility." 

"Of course." They turn back to the mirror. 

Kamski snorts. "Alright, I'll leave you two to it. Have fun." 

"Thank you, Mr. Kamski," they return. They feel the pulse of Kamski's wavelengths, and then they're alone together again. 

They hum softly, watching their reflection, tapping the mirror with a nail. What were they thinking about before their mentor came? 

Oh, right. Their physical needs. Connor hasn't been able to eat since his turning was complete… 

They teleport to the kitchen, padding over to the cabinets. They don't bother turning on the light—they have Connor's night vision, it seems. They ease the door to the pantry open.

Nines doesn't snack much, so they don't have a lot of options. But there  _ is _ a variety pack of chips he got as an indulgence once—though he hasn't eaten more than three out of the thirty or so bags. 

No time like the present. The worst thing that'll probably happen is the equivalent of food poisoning, and they're sure they can fix that up easily. Besides, they have a feeling that they'll be fine. 

They open a bag of Lays, carefully extracting the dried, salted slice of potato. They bring it to their mouth, and take a bite. 

Well, it sure tastes like a potato chip. That's not very surprising. Except… when's the last time Connor tasted this?  _ Directly?  _ Sure, he was able to ride on Nines's memories of eating, but this. This is different. 

They don't realize they're crying until their tears drip onto the bag. "H-hey," they say. "We're okay, it's just a chip." They laugh. "I can't believe we're crying over chips." 

But they're not ashamed, not really. They feel—they feel happy. It makes them smile, and if they dig a little deeper, they think it might be a mix of Nines being happy for Connor, Connor being happy that he can actually eat—though that's not exactly right, since they are  _ they  _ and they're here, feeling these unquantifiable emotions as one. 

They waste no time in finishing the bag of chips, and they don't think too hard about popping open another. And another. Hey, if Nines isn't going to eat them,  _ they _ might as well.

… They really need a name. 

"Nines? Connor?" 

That's Chloe's voice. They turn towards the kitchen entrance, "Did you finish the fusion spell? How are you—" just as Chloe flicks on the light and catches sight of them. 

They must make quite a sight, crouched over the box of chips, three empty bags on the floor, another in their hands. They swallow their current mouthful of chips. "Uh… hi? I, um. We? I think we can eat things. So Connor can eat again. And digest them, so he doesn't. You know. So we've been… eating."

Chloe blinks. "Understandable." Her eyes flick around the room—huh. They're leaking magic all over the place, come to think of it. Can she sense it? They have a feeling that she might've been a witch, before Kamski found her. The thought had  _ occurred _ to both Connor and Nines, but—they're almost sure, now. 

"Don't give yourself a stomach ache, alright?"

They blink, Chloe's voice pulling them out of their thoughts, before they give a nod. That wouldn't be good. Stomach aches are a pain. 

Chloe glances around the room again, before giving them a wave. "I'll let the two of you have your fun. But save some space for lunch, okay? I'll make something nice for you."

She's gone before they react. Huh. Lunch. That'd probably be better than chips. It'll definitely be better than chips, Chloe's food is always amazing. 

They pour the rest of the chips in their current bag into their mouth before gathering up the other bags and tossing them in the trash can under the sink. It won't do to leave a mess, after all. 

What to do now…? They hum as they wash their hands. Well, Nines likes to draw. Connor likes to read. And maybe chat with "The Crew." Well, now there's a thought. Maybe they could go visit some of them? They should probably make sure Kamski's okay with them leaving, though. 

"Mr. Kamski?" they call out. In moments, their mentor forms behind them—just as they're toweling their hands dry. 

"What is it?"

"Do you mind if we go out and visit some people? Possibly? Josh and his friends, I mean."

Kamski raises his eyebrows. "Well, that… could be rather interesting. I would prefer to accompany you, though. After all, you are technically a new and unknown type of entity. If something happens, I would prefer to be present."

"Oh. Right. I guess we'll text them to see who's free, then."

Though… whose phone? Connor's, probably, he's the one that likes to talk to them more. They reach for Connor's magic storage—it's interestingly blended with Nines's, yet still somewhat distinct. At the ends, at least. Like a gradient of their magic.

A pale, golden light forms in their right hand, and in another moment, Connor's phone drops into it. A stray thought wanders in—if Connor is right-handed and Nines is left-handed, does that make them ambidextrous? They think so. 

They slot that thought somewhere else in their mind as they unlock Connor's phone—only for the fingerprint sensor to deny their entry. 

That is… not actually that surprising. They'll have to add their own fingerprints later, then. They tap in Connor's passcode instead, navigating to the group chat.

**The Crew**

**_Connor:_ ** _ Hello! Connor and Nines fused today and we wanted to see if any of you were free for us to visit. Mr. Kamski would have to accompany us, to make sure nothing… concerning… happens. After lunch? _

**_Josh:_ ** _ you  _ _  
_ _ did  _ _  
_ _ WHAT _

**_Connor:_ ** _ We suppose we should change our nickname, huh…  _

**_Connor changed his nickname to Connor and Nines_ **

**_Connor and Nines:_ ** _ At least until we find a proper name for us. _

**_North:_ ** _ Cones _

**_Connor and Nines:_ ** _ No.  _

**_North:_ ** _ I was mostly messing with you ❤️  _ _  
_ _ Anyways. This is probably the most interesting thing to happen for a while, so count me in. As a treat, I'll transport anyone that wants to meet them to my place. _

**_Connor and Nines:_ ** _ Your place wouldn't happen to be in the fae realm, would it? _

**_North:_ ** _ ha! nice catch. Well, I was thinking that since time is dilated in my realm right now, you could come over and stay much longer there _

_ Plus!! You could totally go ham in my realm without worrying about property damage!!!! Doesn't that seem fun?  _

**_Simon:_ ** _ this seems like a disaster waiting to happen.  _

**_Daniel:_ ** _ that's a trend with north  _

**_North:_ ** _ I _ _  
_ _ Don't actually resent that because it's true, but come on!! It'll be fun.  _

**_Markus:_ ** _ I mostly just want to see how the two of you are doing. I'd be willing. _

**_Josh:_ ** _ I also just want to make sure the two of you are okay.  _

**_Daniel:_ ** _ … Simon and I will join too _

_ Guess this is a gonna be a sudden gathering of the crew _

**_North:_ ** _ excellent >:Dc _

**_Connor and Nines:_ ** _ I'm wondering if we should be concerned. But we would like to see all of you like this. We're curious, too. _

**_North:_ ** _ very excellent >:3c _

**_Connor and Nines:_ ** _ We'll ask Mr. Kamski. _

They look up from their phone conversation to see their mentor already staring at their screen. "So," they start. 

The vampire raises his eyebrow. "I am simultaneously concerned and intrigued. Well, why not? Make sure to ask if she'll bring you back, though."

"Right."

**_Connor and Nines:_ ** _ You'll bring us back, right? (Mr. Kamski wanted us to ask.) _

**_North: *_ ** _ snort* yeah I won't keep you _

_ there. _

_ Though it'd be interesting to see if you can leave on your own…  _

**_Connor and Nines:_ ** _ Neat. We'll take you up on your offer, then. 2PM? _

**_North:_ ** _ sounds like a plan :3 _

They lock their phone, looking back up at Kamski. "We'll see what happens?"

He gives an amused huff through his nose. "So we shall."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks in the server already know their fusion name, hehe.
> 
> Here's some concept art of them! Full view [here](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/553631974934446101/729067033228214332/image0.jpg).  
> 
> 
> Also, here are some doodles of [Nines](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/701176050574557236/716356324551819265/image0.jpg) and [Connor's](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/701176050574557236/716366050882617444/image0.jpg) "styles": 


	4. Verdant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spirited away to the fae realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~2200

Lunch with Chloe is as wonderful as they expect. Lemon-garlic chicken—and they manage to finish all of it. Increased appetite, interesting. 

They also eat with tears streaming down their face, which leads to Chloe giving them soothing pats on their shoulder. It's just _so good._ They turn around and hug Chloe at one point, too—she just laughs brightly and goes on with rubbing their back. 

After lunch, they try drawing for a bit, first with their left hand. The style seems a slightly different from Nines's, but in terms of skill it seems they're about the same. Then they try it with their right hand—and it looks a lot like Connor's occasional messy doodles, but much better in quality and with hints of Nines's sketching habits. 

They also try reading a book. The first one they tried was one Connor was in the middle of, though Nines hasn't read it. It's really… _strange._ It's like picking up a book you haven't read in a long time, and the events filter in as you continue reading and get reminders of the plot. But the memory of the book just isn't at the forefront of their mind. 

They next try a book neither of them have read, and they note the differences in the way they enjoy it. Connor is remarkably detail-oriented and gladly theorizes and picks out all the little tidbits, while Nines fully immerses himself in the singular moment of what he's reading, losing himself in the present mental imagery and vicarious emotions. Together, now, they notice themself doing a bit of both. They're not as deeply immersed as Nines gets, and they don't consider as many details and probabilities that Connor does. 

Before they know it, it's almost 2 PM. North said she'd come by to pick them up and spirit them away to her realm—maybe they should wear something a little more interesting? They climb out of their bed, slinking over to their mirror. 

What to wear, though? Nines has his favored minimalistic styles, and Connor has his somewhat-dressy styles. They could wear a combination of things, or… they could design a "fusion" of some of their outfits. That could be fun.

They close their eyes, pulling up a visualization of some of both of their outfits in their mind. Nice to see that they haven't lost any of Nines's skill for visualization—it seems better now, even, with Connor's attention to detail. 

They pick out two of the ones that appeal most to them—a long, black robe of Nines's, and Connor's favored coat, a trench coat. How to best combine design elements, though? They think Nines's hanging shoulder flaps are nice, Connor's general trench coat shape is appealing… yes, yes. 

Soon enough, they have a fairly solid design in their mind, and they pull from their reserve material to form it with Engarment. They open their eyes to watch their current clothes vanish in a wash of white, which gradually coalesces into the imagined form of their design. 

In minutes, their magic fades, revealing the result. It's… well, it looks like how they were intending it to, but it gives off a vibe they weren't expecting. 

Their coat is mostly gray, with the cape-like flaps and the bottom sections a darker gray. There are silvery-blue highlights at the edges of some of the transitions of different materials. Like Connor's trench coat, there are four gold buttons, and two ribbon-things hanging off the back of the coat, tipped in gold metal as well. Underneath, they're wearing a black, high-necked dress shirt with some kind of pattern of both gold and blue-silver. 

Their pants are black, and so are their shoes—which have heels, as Nines likes to wear them sometimes, but not as thin or as high. 

They look… 

Really, really extra. Is this what living with Kamski has done to them? Not that they care, though. It's still neat. 

Before they have too much time to stare at their reflection, the sound of the doorbell rings throughout the house. That must be North. They shadow-step to the foyer, where Kamski has also just arrived, as well. Their mentor gestures to the door, as if inviting them to answer it. 

They shrug and open the door, greeted by the sight of a grinning North, dressed in her usual jacket. "Hello," they say.

"Hey," she returns. She takes them in, raking her eyes up and down. "You must be Connor and Nines. But together."

"That would be right." 

"Nice outfit."

"Thank you. We designed it just now, more or less." 

Kamski steps up behind them. "It's nice to see you again, North. You'll be taking us to your realm?" 

"Yep." She pops the 'p'. "Now, take my hand!" She jabs both of her hands forward, one in front of—hm, Connor-Nines? Nines-Connor? and one in front of Kamski. 

Connor-Nines takes North's hand without hesitation. The skin is warm to the touch, a little warmer than humans typically are, they think—though come to think of it, they're probably colder than humans. But not as cold as vampires. 

Kamski takes North's other hand after a moment. North grins, then, and they can _feel_ the sudden shift in reality as the world warps around them in kaleidoscopic wavelengths. 

They blink, and they suddenly find themselves in the clearing of a forest. Their vision is suddenly flooded with lush green—the ground is covered in soft moss, round stones scattered here and there, also covered in moss. There are vines, ferns, mushrooms, and of course, towering trees, full of vibrant leaves. The sunlight filters through the expansive foliage in buttery streams, and speckles of golden particles—random aggregations of magic, mostly—float in the air. 

Magic is abundant here. They can feel it. It's in the trees, the earth, the plants, the air. Humming with power, attuned to the being before them, who… now looks completely different. 

The first thing they notice is _green,_ a lot of it. North's skin has taken on a pale green tinge, and her mundane clothes have been replaced with a leafy green, single-shouldered, dress-like robe, vines and leaves winding across it. She's also wearing sleeve glove things, covering her arms from a little over her elbows to a bit past her wrist, as well as dark brown leggings with no shoes, all accented with shining gold embellishments. She has two horns—antlers? that look as though they are made of wood itself, also decorated with golden jewelry. Her wings, too, look as though they belong on flora and not fauna—six green segments that look just like leaves. 

Her eyes are red, they notice. And slitted. Her nails have become red claws, a fact that comes to their attention as she lets go of their hands. She smiles, then, revealing an array of sharp teeth. 

This is a Greater Fae. Far beyond humanity. 

"Welcome to the fae realm! I'll be your guide," she winks. "Now follow me. Everyone else is already here." 

Both Connor-Nines and Kamski trail after her. Her steps seem light, as if she's barely touching the ground before stepping forward again, and both? all three? of them have to make use of their supernatural agility to keep up. 

They barely even notice the transition of their surroundings into something that looks more like a living space. Plants are still everywhere, but the trees grow in ways to mostly enclose some areas, and there are natural wooden constructs that look like they might be tables, benches, chairs. It becomes clear enough when the wooden walls are obviously walls, with gaps in the wood to let the warm light in, and there is "the crew," gathered around a wide tree-stump table, sitting on the moss-carpeted floor. 

"Hey, guys!" North calls out, fluttering over to them. "Look what I brought," she said in singsong. 

Markus makes a face—probably at her choice of words, while Josh immediately stands up, walking over. "North! And, uh, Mr. Kamski and… Connor and Nines?" 

"That would be right," they say, giving a wave. "Nice to… meet you again? Like this?" 

"God, this is weird," Josh mutters. "Yeah, nice to meet together-you, I guess."

Josh leads them to the table—Kamski sits off to the side a bit, waving them off when they give him a questioning tilt of their head. "I'm just here to keep an eye on you. You can have your fun."

So they sit down at the tree-trunk table, Josh to their right and Markus to their left. Simon is left of Markus, Daniel next to him, and then North completes the circle. There's enough room for all of them to spread their arms, and then some. 

It's interesting to see them like this. They—Connor and Nines each feel differently about the others. Connor is generally more friendly with them, while Nines is more distant in general. Not to say that he doesn't like them. 

"So, uh," Markus breaks the silence, which they now realize may have lasted an awkward length, "How did this happen? Was it on purpose, or…"

They blink. "It was very much on purpose. We've been working on the spell for months, now." they lift their hands, looking at them. "I—well, Connor, actually. Um. You remember how Connor was possessed?"

The others shift uncomfortably. "Yeah," Josh says. "You, uh, Connor mentioned that." 

"Right. Well. It was a soul-deep possession, and I suppose… both of us wanted to achieve a greater closeness than that." They laugh, the sound tinged by slight nervousness. "Connor had the desire first, but he thought it was weird to want to become one with your brother, so he kept it buried. Nines found out during a feeding, and… well, let's just say it was everything I—he didn't know he wanted." 

"That is pretty weird, not gonna lie," Daniel remarks. "But it worked, right? You seem fine. Do you like being… you?"

_"Yes,"_ they breathe, wrapping their arms around themself. "It feels amazing. It feels like I'm finally complete. I just feel so _happy._ That feeling just runs under everything. We love each other so much, and I—I _am_ that. Everything they are, everything in between."

"You use both 'we' and 'I' a lot." They open their eyes to see Simon looking at them inquisitively. "Do you think of yourself as a singular or plural entity?"

"Oh. Well, we're not sure, actually." They shrug. "We just use what feels right."

"Fair enough."

They continue talking for a bit, the conversation turning to various other topics. Markus has been spending most of his time at Carl's house. "He hasn't been doing that well," the sorcerer says, subdued. "I don't know how long…" He tapers off into silence. 

The mood at the table becomes somber. Even Kamski looks affected. "Maybe we can all visit him afterwards?" Nines-Connor suggests. "If that is alright."

Markus smiles. "I think that'd be nice."

Simon's been working as an archivist for an arcane library—helping document what's been digitized, what hasn't, where things need to go. "Tedious but rewarding," he calls it. 

Daniel, on the other hand, has been working in a shelter for supernatural creatures. It helps that he's not fazed by the more aggressive ones, apparently. It also helps that he could, in theory, be put back together if he gets torn from limb to limb. "Hasn't happened yet," he says, shrugging, "but it makes things easier when you don't have to fear pain or death. At least, not as much."

Neat.

Josh, of course, has continued his studies and his work as a TA. Now that it's summer, though, he's mostly free. 

It's nice to talk with them, very nice. The fluctuating anxiety Connor often has when interacting in groups is soothed by Nines's cool logic. Nines's reticence tempers Connor's openness in conversation, landing them somewhere between on the spectrum of talkativeness. 

Soon, though, the conversation turns back to them. "Are you going to stay like that forever?" North asks, leaning on the table, tilting her head. 

"No," Kamski says, and all heads swivel towards him. "They're on a timer. Twenty-four hours at maximum, for their first fusion. And as much as the two of you love being like this, there are things the two of you need to do separately."

A sigh escapes them. "We know…" They lift up the wrist with the timer, watching the shadows coalesce. **18:14:30** , it reads, ticking down normally. "Huh. This is synced to our time and not the time of the material plane, it seems." Not surprising, they suppose. "Just about eighteen hours left."

"You know, you could spend all those hours in here, only for an hour to pass in the material plane," North says, grinning widely. "Hey, you wanna run wild a bit? You knocked down Markus with your shared pressure before, I'm _quite_ curious to see what you're capable of, now." 

At their hesitation, she continues. "You don't have to worry about damage to the forest. I can heal it all easily, and there are plenty of open areas." 

They glance at Kamski, who shrugs. "It would be interesting to see, I admit."

Well. 

"Why not," they say. 

The grin on North's face is mildly concerning. "Then let's get to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fae North is posted on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice/status/1269976072876994560?s=20), [Tumblr](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/post/620386312509325312/felt-like-drawing-norths-true-form-as-a-fae), and [dA](https://sta.sh/0yvjf6et2vc).
> 
> Daniel seems like the guy that'd face down an angry griffin with a mildly displeased expression


	5. Dual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just having a bit of fun! Magic duels seem like fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~3260
> 
> Warning for blood/violence this chapter. There is artwork inline that's pretty bloody, if that's a problem for anyone, let me know and I can replace it with a link :'D

"We have seven natural affinities. Cold, heat, light, darkness, water, blood, and soul. We also seem to be able to utilize other types of magic more easily."

"I'm gonna admit," North says, "That's pretty fucking scary. What, and no magic poisoning? Reality-drifting? I can tell your magic's been leaking all over the place, but it hasn't really done anything drastic."

They're in an open area, now. Still surrounded by trees, but they estimate the clearing is about the size of a football stadium. The ground is carpeted with moss and ferns, brilliantly green in the sunlight washing through the foliage. Josh, Simon, and Daniel stand at the edge of the forest, while North, Markus, and Kamski are closer—considering that they'd be able to handle the magic pressure more. 

"Seems not. We feel fine. To be fair—we haven't done anything strenuous. Though that will change now, I suppose." They pull their magic forward, picking out the threads of their different affinities. 

First… they form a white flame in their hand. Cold and heat. They throw their hand out, the fire falling in an arc—and a glacial formation forms where it meets the earth, capturing to motion of the flame. The entire clearing drops a few degrees, but not for long. With another pull on their magic the temperature rises rapidly, melting the ice into globs of water—which they lift around them, raising their hands to chest level, palms down. 

They bring their hands together, concentrating magic into their hands, before whipping their arms wide, releasing a brilliant sphere of light from their grasp. It scatters in the mist, refracting into rainbow wavelengths, before they—seized by a sudden instinct—gather all the mist into their left hand, compressing it into ice—no, a crystal, capturing the radiance of their spell. 

They realize rather suddenly that they're floating, a bit. Their feet hover slightly over the ground, and they blink in surprise at the phenomenon. They gradually let go of the threads of their magic, and they sink back to the ground.

Interesting. 

"Nines! Connor! That was amazing!" North is suddenly in front of them, grinning wildly, excitedly. "Very, very pretty. And you made a magic crystal! Let me see!" 

They blink a few times before opening their hand. An octahedron, diamond-shaped, with various grooves that catch the white light shining within it. They offer it to North, who makes an excited sound as she holds it up to her right eye. "Oh, man, a wizard would kill for one of these. Under the right, or maybe the  _ wrong _ circumstances, hehe." 

Ah, right. Wizards. Individuals, typically nonmagical, who study magical theory and magical objects, using their knowledge to perform magical feats.

A sigh comes from behind them, and they turn to see Kamski. "Let me see that, please." He holds out a hand for it, and North reluctantly puts it in his hand. He hums, inspecting it. "Four affinities, primarily… even someone without magic could cast a variety of spells with this. I would say that it's a mid-tier crystal…" 

Interesting. They recall—Kamski had told them about magic crystals some time ago. Quite literally crystallized magic. Any sorcerer can make one, but it's usually fairly draining to make one of any decent quality. A Demon's Tear counts as a high-tier crystal of demonic magic, actually. 

"How are you feeling?" 

They blink at their mentor's question. "Oh—fine, we think?"

"You think."

"We think. We don't feel all that tired, if that's what you're asking." 

"Guys!" They turn to see Josh waving at them. "That was so cool!" he calls across the clearing. "Simon and Daniel think so too but they don't feel like yelling!"

"Thanks!" they shout back. "We're glad you enjoyed it!" 

Markus snorts. "I don't know why, but that was really funny to me."

"Same," North snickers. "Hey, hey. Think you could take on both me and Markus in a fight? Two against two-that-are-one."

They blink. "Aren't you a higher being?" 

North laughs. "I am! Markus can go first, then."

"Why do I feel like North just signed my death warrant?"

"Don't worry, Markus!" She slaps him on the back, and he makes a face. "I'll pull you out if it gets too intense." Her gaze falls on Kamski. "And I'm sure…"

"I will intervene if it becomes necessary." Their mentor turns to face Connor-Nines. "Do keep in mind that holy magic is a significant danger to Connor, and holds an advantage over darkness. That is to say, both components of you have an affinity disadvantage."

"Noted," they say. 

With a few more remarks on details and safety, Connor-Nines and Markus move to opposite ends of the clearing, about twenty meters apart. North glides over to Josh and the others, Kamski shadow-stepping to join them. 

They meet Markus's heterochromatic eyes. They're half-surprised, half-not, to feel the anticipation buzzing in their veins. Most of their combat experience has been for practical reasons, or, well. For their lives, that time with the dem—okay, Demonda. But this? This is for  _ fun.  _

"You can start now!" North calls out. They blink. "What, did you think I'd count you off?"

Of course. 

They immediately start gathering their magic, observing the wavelengths shift as Markus does the same. 

It would be wise for them to avoid getting hit as long as possible. They jerk an arm forward, launching a spear of ice towards the other sorcerer. Markus dodges it easily—or so he thinks. They melt the ice into water and attempt to catch him in it—only to release their control as they feel a gathering of energy above them, immediately followed by a bolt of holy light, which they barely manage to dodge with a quick shadow-step. 

Their veins buzz with adrenaline, and they focus their energy to right under Markus's feet. He jumps back as the earth combusts—of course, combustion is easy to detect. But it benefits them to have a fire to manipulate. With a slight urging, it begins to spread. Markus frowns and jumps back further, before furrowing his brows and holding his hands forward. They can feel—the gathering of vapor, the charge of holy energy in the air. In moments, the vapor condenses into a floating sphere of glowing water in front of his hands.

Ah, yes. Holy water. Holy sorcerers can create it by infusing their magic in water. It's not like Markus is limited to light magic, after all. 

Markus douses most of the fire with the holy water, but not all of it. He misses just enough that Connor-Nines can form a tendril from the lingering flames to lick at the edge of Markus's cloak. It's only when it catches fire that Markus curses, gathering more holy water to put it out. 

While he's busy with that, they form a ball of white fire in their hands, letting it grow until they release a pulse of it around them, freezing the area up to about a twenty-five meter radius from them. 

Markus's feet are caught in the freeze—he manages to mostly shield himself with a barrier of light. White flames lick at the shield, degrading its structural integrity. It doesn't stand a chance when they shadow-step right in front of the shield and swing a heated blade of light at it. 

The barrier shatters, and Markus stumbles back, eyes wide, thrown by the extra force it took him to break out of the ice. They slash at him again, and he ducks to dodge. There's a gathering of energy, energy that makes their nerves hum with  _ danger,  _ before a sword of solid light forms in Markus's hand. He arcs it towards them while it's still forming, and they jump back to dodge. 

Markus straightens, panting, an exhilarated grin on his face, as the light coalesces into a double-edged broadsword. He holds it to the side, and with another wash of magic, his coat vanishes—Engarment, they realize. Preparing for close combat. 

They follow suit, dispersing their coat into nothingness and slightly adjusting their outfit. A pale blue crystal sits at the collar of their black, high-necked shirt, a golden tie below. They kept the ribbons of their shirt, because, well, why not? 

They do this all in only a second or two, because Markus is already charging at them. They dodge his upward strike, and try to hit him while his guard is open—though he manages to intercept their attack with his sword.

Markus likely has the advantage of proper weapons training. Not to mention that pure, solid holy energy would likely harm them considerably. But  _ they _ have the advantage of vampiric strength and stamina, and as they continue to exchange blows, they notice Markus breathing more heavily, sweat beading his brow. His sword wavers, sometimes, but he manages to get it solid enough to attack and defend.

They manage to land a few hits, the other sorcerer wincing at the burned cuts they cause, but Markus eventually manages to catch them by surprise. His light-sword melts under one of their strikes, and in a desperate motion, he re-forms it to attack—the swing catches them on their side, fairly deeply, and they can't help the strangled sound that escapes them as a  _ burning  _ pain courses through their body. 

Immediately, they shadow-step to the other side of the clearing, on their knees, holding their bleeding side. It  _ hurts.  _ Nothing's ever hurt this badly—well, maybe stabbing himself in the heart, but even that didn't  _ burn  _ like this. 

It's okay. It's okay,  _ we're okay,  _ only half of them is a vampire. They know how to heal, and they're sure they can heal this on their own, too. They pull the thread of blood magic, regulating their breathing as they stitch the wound closed. Soon enough, the pain is only an echoing memory. 

They look up to see Markus kneeling where they left him, breathing harshly. He's already dismissed his sword. "Are you okay?" He calls.

"We're fine. We can continue," they return. 

Markus laughs dryly, breathless. "I—I think I've hit my limit. You fight like you have no end to your magic or strength, geez…"

"Alright then," North suddenly appears, landing on the ground between them, "My turn, then! I'm interested to see how you'll do against someone as powerful as me. Think you can take me on?"

They exchange a look with Markus. "Only one way to find out."

North grins. "Now  _ that's _ what I like to hear. Now, don't worry," she adds, "I won't use my  _ full  _ power. At least not at the start."

And that is how they end up facing a Greater Fae in magic combat. 

It's pretty clear that North doesn't use her full power at first—she starts with growing vines around her that whip forward and grab their arms. They set them on fire with a glance and a concentration of their magic, and the vines shrivel in the flames, enough for them to pull free. Instead of the fire spreading like they expect, though, North simply waves her hand and they disappear without a trace. 

Pure, unaffined magic. She could do anything she wanted with enough of that.

"Come on," she goads, "Don't be holding back on me, now! I know you can do more than this."

Well, that is true. They reach for the shadows, solidifying them. Darkness bleeds across the field, spreading from beneath their feet to all the way across the clearing. North takes flight before it reaches her, but they form a number of clawed hands out of the pool of darkness, catching her leg and trying to drag her back down. To no avail, though—she curls into something like a fetal position, before expanding herself outwards in a sudden movement accompanied by a burst of force that frees her of the hands and makes Nines-Connor stumble back. 

The fae follows with an upward motion of her hands, and thick vines burst from the ground around them, wrapping around their body, restraining them. They respond with a flash-freeze of everything about ten meters around them, before shadow-stepping out of the entrapping vines. 

North is grinning as she looks down at them from above. "Knew you wouldn't make this easy."

They find a grin on their own face. This, they think, is something fun. Something exciting. It makes all their senses sharpen, it makes their heart pound—though admittedly, it's still slower than a human's heart. Their magic hums with their soul, a synchronous song of indistinguishable voices. It suffuses throughout their entire body, making every nerve tingle with that wonderful sense of unity. 

"We're just getting started," they return, before whipping their hands out to form an array of ice shards above North from the vapor in the air. They jerk their hands down, and the shards follow the movement, rushing down—only to be deflected with a flap of the fae's wings.

"Is that all?" she taunts.

"No, not at all." They lift a palm upwards, and then clench it into a fist. The ice shards embedded into the earth start to glow with white light, before they lift and point towards North. Connor-Nines flicks their hand open and forward, palm down, and every shard releases a beam of light, all directed towards the fae. 

There's a burst of light and sound, and they have to blink away to shield their eyes. When the brightness fades, though, they see North's wings curled around herself, a faint distortion refracting the light around her. The distortion vanishes and she unfolds herself—they can see that she's completely unharmed. "That wasn't bad. Now let's see if  _ you  _ can take a hit." 

A sudden pressure in the air makes their breath catch, and then there are more vines bursting out of the ground, from a radius of about ten meters away. The vines twist around them, and they start to shadow-step—only to gasp as a sudden increase in the pressure makes them momentarily lose focus on their magic. It's enough for the vines to close in before they can react, though—and they hear the injury before they can feel it. An almost dull, piercing sound.

It takes a moment for them to register the vine impaling their abdomen. Vines. Multiple. They cough, feeling liquid drip out of their mouth as they grasp at the plants. Covered in their blood. Their feet are dangling off the ground. 

"North!" They hear faintly. Kamski, they think. "You've gone too far!"

"They're immortal, aren't they? One's a vampire and one has high-class regenerative healing. I didn't aim for anything critical. This is nothing. Unless… Is that the best the two of you can do together?"

No. Of course not. They grit their teeth, ignoring the pain—luckily, Connor's relative pain insensitivity is helpful, here—before tearing the vines out of themself using their own blood. 

They gather their magic power before they fall, and they find themself floating in the air, surrounded by floating droplets and strings of their own blood. The wound in their chest is already closing. They pass their hand over their chest, activating their healing and Engarment at the same time to make it look as though they were never harmed at all. 

Looking back up, they see North grinning again. "Excellent. Now show me some of your blood magic, will you?"

They raise an eyebrow. Without lifting a finger, their suspended blood whips forward, each droplet forming a spike to pierce the fae. While they could probably do something similar with water, they don't have as fine of a control over it. Plus, they could theoretically do some debilitating damage if they manage to infiltrate a bloodstream. 

North dodges like a dance, fluttering in the air, laughing. They need something to distract her, to throw her off. Without relenting in their attack, they pull from the beams of sunlight, stretching wavelengths into invisibility, darkening the area—before snapping them all back to white light, sudden, bright, blinding. It's enough for North to blink in surprise at it, enough for three of their attacks to pierce her—left leg, right arm, grazing her neck. 

Her eyes widen as green blood starts dripping from the wounds, but now—now, they're in her bloodstream, and they focus their magic to expand their influence. They think—yes. They can somewhat manipulate her own blood, saturated with their magic, and the move to slam her to the earth. Right before they do, though, she launches something like a thorn at them, grown and pulled from one of her antlers. It grazes their cheek, drawing blood.

Just as North hits the ground, they touch their check—and a sudden vertigo hits them. They barely manage to ease themself to the ground before the vertigo transitions to nausea, and they lift a hand to cover their mouth.

Of course. All fae are experts in nature magic, and nature magic includes poison. "Ugh," they groan. "You  _ poisoned _ us." She really didn't pull her punches, huh? 

"To be fair, I might've lost if I didn't." North props herself up on her hands from where she was facedown on the ground. "Now that you got into my bloodstream. Blood sorcerers can be a pain to deal with, ha." 

Smoky shadows form in between them, and Kamski steps out. "Alright, that's enough. I'm calling this a draw." 

"I can live with that," North huffs. "Together-you makes a formidable opponent." 

"Thanks," they manage through the nausea. "You too." 

Their head is spinning throughout the entire process, but they manage to hold it together long enough for them to pull their blood out of North and for North to pull the poison out of them. By the time their head clears, they're on their back, blinking up at what sky is visible through the foliage. They're exhausted, they realize. North is bending over them, thumb pulling away from the already-healing cut on their cheek. Kamski is nearby, and so are the others. Markus and Josh are looking at them worriedly, Simon and Daniel are somewhere out of their line of sight.

"If this is your first day like this," North says, "I have to wonder what you'll be like in the future. You're like a new scion grafted onto a tree. Can't wait to see how you'll grow."

Scion… hm, wait. 

What if… 

"I think we have a name for me," they say. Immediately, everyone's attention is on them, so they add, "Cion. C-I-O-N. Has letters from both of our names…" 

"Huh." North tilts her head. "Cion. I like the sound of that. Plus, not gonna lie—I mean, I can't, but my point stands—you give off some nobility vibes."

Oh. Maybe that was the unexpected feeling they got from themself while they were staring at their reflection, earlier.

Kamski snorts. "Well, I suppose my vampiric bloodline  _ is  _ an old and powerful one…"

"To be fair, Mr. Kamski," Markus interjects, "you're pretty much the equivalent of a noble in modern society, what with your power and reputation. Anyways," he smiles. "I think it's a good name. Sounds nice, too."

"Thank you," they murmur. They feel… They put their hand on their chest. "I think we're going to unfuse soon."

Immediately, Kamski moves in, and North backs up. "Does anything hurt?"

They— _ Cion  _ shakes their—his? head. "Magical exhaustion, we think… Just tired."

"Alright." Kamski reaches a hand up to brush through their hair. Cion closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. 

"This is nice." Their voice is so quiet now. "You know… we may have gotten stabbed and poisoned, but I think… this might be the most fun birthday we've ever had."

As their consciousness fades, the last thing they hear is indistinct yelling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually made so much art relevant to this chapter jshfsdjhf
> 
> Markus with his holy sword ([Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice/status/1275909898643992576?s=20), [Tumblr](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/post/622017056128237569/holy-sorcerer-markus-he-usually-uses-long-range)), Cion having a good time ([dA](https://sta.sh/03q32hs8v2x)), and the inline art ([dA](https://sta.sh/06puf42k1yd)).
> 
>   
> 


	6. Gravitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 3227

When Connor comes to, the first thing his brain registers is  _ soft _ . The next thing he notices is that he's curled around something warm, and that something seems to be curled around him. 

Or rather, someone. 

He then feels the humming connection between them. It's—more. Lingering. Viscous, almost, and he can feel how he pulls Nines to consciousness by his own wakefulness. 

Nines's eyes flutter open, immediately locking with Connor's gaze. And then he  _ smiles— _ not like his quiet smiles of contentment or his shit-eating smirks. He smiles in a way that lights up his whole face, teeth showing, eyes bright with unadulterated happiness, even moderated by his lingering sleepiness. 

He lifts a hand from Connor's back to his face, before pulling their foreheads together.  _ We did it,  _ Connor hears in his mind.

_ We did.  _ Connor can feel himself smiling now, too.  _ I love you, Nines. _

Nines answers him not with verbal thoughts, but pure  _ feeling— _ the love he has for his brother, his twin, his other half. Warm, accepting, infinite, and maybe just a tad possessive. Not that Connor minds. 

Connor lets a breathy laugh escape him, and he's sure to echo his own love for Nines, too—and Nines hums contentedly, closing his eyes, letting his hand rest lazily on the back of Connor's neck.

"So, you're finally awake." 

Connor twists back, giving Nines a pat at his discontent grumble, to see Kamski sitting on a wooden chair next to their bed—the frame of which also seems to be grown out of the surrounding wood itself. They must still be in the fae realm—it seems like it's morning, what with the crisp sunlight streaming through the gaps in the organic walls. Did they sleep through the entire night? 

"First of all," Kamski starts, uncrossing his legs, "Do you both remember what happened while you were fused?"

"Yes," Nines answers him. He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "It's… different from memories as myself, somehow. I'm not sure how to describe it. A dreamlike quality, perhaps? But it does feel as though I've experienced them myself." 

"Interesting. You as well, Connor?"

He nods at being addressed. "It's sharper than a dream memory, but it does feel something like that." 

"Noted." Kamski folds his hands in his lap. "Both of you had severe magical exhaustion after you unfused. I suspect you feel the effects of exhaustion at levels of magic depletion similar to your individual ones, but when you unfuse, your magic is split evenly between the two of you. In other words, you'd be twice as exhausted whenever you unfuse." He sighs. "It's quite fortunate we're in the fae realm, really, since the high level of ambient magic helps you recover faster. It may have taken days in the mundane realm."

"Oh," Connor says. That does make sense—he supposes they'll have to keep that in mind. 

"How do the two of you feel now?" Kamski asks.

Connor lifts a hand, looking at it, though it's a bit awkward to do so when he's still lying on his side. "Good? I don't feel exhausted, if that's what you're asking. Our magic is…" He turns over to his back to see his brother, taking one of Nines's hands in his own. "Sticky to each other's, somehow…" 

Nines hums sleepily, interlacing their fingers together. 

"Right, that." Kamski tilts his head. "Do you recall how I said your magic behaved strangely right before you fused?" At their nods, he continues. "The array seems to have integrated into both of your souls. It's inactive, but my best guess is that it enables easy activation of the spell. That is, you'll be able to fuse much more easily."

"Huh." Connor focuses on his soul, trying to see if he can discern the presence of the array, and—yes. There, lying dormant. He tugs on it out of curiosity, only for Nines to inhale sharply at the same time a light emanates from their joined hands—or what  _ were  _ their joined hands. Both his and Nines's arms up to their elbows have been enveloped in the glow of their magic, and their fingers are blending into each other's space. He can feel the tingling connection, other threads waiting for completion, unity. Before Connor can be tempted to lose himself in the feeling, Kamski grabs both of their biceps and pulls them apart. The magic enveloping their hands fades, and Connor feels oddly disappointed. 

"Not now," Kamski chides, "Though I do appreciate you confirming my theory." He backs away, letting them go. Nines huffs, immediately lying back down and setting his arm around Connor's chest and his head on Connor's shoulder. 

"Where are the others," Nines asks in an almost-petulant monotone. 

At that, Kamski closes his eyes, sits back on his chair, and folds his hands on his lap. He sighs, then, before opening his eyes. "They're back in the mundane world, frantically trying to figure out how to handle the fact that it's your  _ birthday.  _ Were you ever going to mention it?" 

"No?" Connor answers. "We… there wasn't any reason we had to bring it up."

Kamski pinches the bridge of his nose. "No reason—" He sighs. "Did it, perhaps, occur to you that it's something that I, your guardian, as well as your friends, would like to know so we can show our appreciation for your existence?"

Both Connor and Nines are quiet for a moment, staring at their mentor. Nines speaks first. "We've only celebrated on our own, ever since our parents died. It wasn't… it wasn't something we thought we needed to share. It's  _ our  _ birthday, and anything others have done has always felt…" 

"Empty," Connor finishes. Their parents would give them money and buy them a cake, and that was nice, that was sufficient. But with just the two of them, they always did something that both of them liked—going out to eat, finding a book both of them would read so they could talk about it, just spending time curled up together, soaking in each others' presence. In a way, fusion— _ Cion— _ is their gift to each other, this time. 

"I see." Kamski's face is impassive, unreadable. "Will you allow us to try? The two of you are…" He purses his lips. "Ever since the two of you came into my life, I…" 

"Oh? Has the stone-cold politician lost all his aplomb?" Nines teases, as their mentor trails off.

"Nines," Connor bats at his brother's arm, "You can't just say that."

Kamski snorts. "I should have seen that coming." He straightens, then, and looks them in the eye. "The two of you have taught me how to enjoy life in a way I never thought I could. You've given me the opportunity to connect—to  _ allow  _ myself to connect with Gavin. And—I've always seen love as a foreign emotion. Something I could never touch. And yet, the way I feel about the two of you, about Gavin, about Chloe—it is different, between each of you, but I must wonder if this is what it means to love one's family."

And Connor is… speechless. Kamski is—not affectionate. Not prone to displays or declarations of emotion. And yet, here he is, declaring his possible discovery of familial love. Both Connor and Nines see him as family, they  _ do,  _ but they've only had their undying love for each other and the strict care of their parents as points of comparison. 

They certainly don't see him the way they saw their parents, and neither of them are sure they see him as a  _ parental  _ figure. But he's certainly family, and he's… 

_ He's important to us, too.  _ Nines squeezes Connor slightly from where he has an arm wrapped around Connor's chest. 

_ Yes… yes, he is.  _ Connor puts his hand over Nines's, squeezing the back of his brother's hand. 

"The only person I ever really cared about was Connor, before," Nines murmurs. He lifts himself from Connor's shoulder. "But… I think I care about you, too. And I think I might care about the others." 

Connor huffs in amusement. "Imagine that. My brother's heart growing a few sizes. Not that I'm one to talk—you matter to us, too, Mr. Kamski. And I guess we actually have friends now." 

"I think," Kamski says slowly, "at this point, you can call me Eli."

Connor can't help himself, and when the thought occurs to him, his brother finds it incredibly amusing, as well. Nines smirks, and then: "Noted, Mr. Kamski."

Kamski closes his eyes and takes a breath. "You're going to keep calling me that anyway, aren't you."

"Mr. Kamski suits you more than Eli," Connor adds, grinning. "We're too used to it." 

"I suppose that is understandable." Kamski smooths out his robes. "In any case. In the mundane plane, it's still your birthday. Most likely around five or six PM. I expect that they're trying to find gifts they think the two of you would like. Not that they have much to go on. The plan was for me to bring the two of you back home once you awaken, and they would eventually meet us there."

"North is gone, too, isn't she?" Connor sits up, and Nines lets him go before doing the same. "How are you going to get us back?" 

"She left us a faery compass," Kamski answers, opening his hands to form an object in his hand, coalescing from dark smoke. It looks more like a charm than a compass—it's a wooden ring, just about the size of Kamski's palm, wrapped with vines. "As long as I hold this, wandering into the depths of her forest will bring us back to the mundane plane. The reverse works as well—wandering into a forest in the mundane realm while holding this will bring us to her domain. Not as efficient as her taking us herself, but," Kamski shrugs, "It's the standard method for most beings to traverse between the fae and mundane realms." 

Connor throws his legs over the side of the bed, "Should we go now, then?"

"If the two of you are feeling up for it."

"There's not much for us to do here," Nines says, scooting over to get out of bed, too. "We can go." 

As Connor moves to fully push himself out of bed, though, he feels something stick to his palm. Confused, he lifts his hand, only to find it stuck to a large sap-covered leaf—it looks like he accidentally put his hand on it while he was trying to get up. 

Nines looks curiously at it as Connor peels it off to reveal a message, in lettering too perfect in appearance to have been written by hand. He reads it aloud, bemused. "Hey guys, sorry I stabbed you. Multiple times. On your birthday. And also poisoned you. Hope you slept well. North."

A loud snort sounds from Nines. "I'm not sure what I expected." 

* * *

A faery compass technically only works for the one holding it. Given that it's not uncommon to be separated in the blink of an eye when crossing dimensions, Connor ends up holding Kamski's hand while Nines holds his. 

It's interesting. It's… nice. 

Soon enough, the light fades in the deep foliage of the forest, and before they know it, the hum of magic in the air has faded. The sky, when they're able to see it again, has the oranges and purples of dusk. Connor's night vision helps, and Nines is probably sensing the darkness to navigate—not that it matters too much, since Kamski shadow-steps them home as soon as they're sure they're back in the mundane plane. 

They're greeted in the foyer by Chloe. She has her arms crossed, and an expression on her face that seems something like stern, something like petulant. "You didn't tell anyone that it's your birthday." 

"No, we did not," Nines confirms. Connor has slipped his hand out of Kamski's, but he's still holding Nines's—and Nines squeezes his hand slightly as he continues, "It's ours, after all." 

Chloe raises an eyebrow. 

"We're willing to share this time, though," Connor adds. "Since it seems like you all would like us to."

Chloe's face softens. "Your friends have been asking me what the two of you like. It's then that I realized, well…" She smiles a little sadly. "I had to guess. I wasn't really sure, except for one thing—" she snickers, "you really like each other."

"More than anything," they say in unison. 

Kamski snorts, before turning to them, eyeing them contemplatively. "Both of you have mostly been using collective pronouns for a while, now. Is it due to a lingering effect of the fusion? Though I suppose you've both tended to do that a lot before, as well."

"Maybe," Nines shrugs, and then Connor jerks his head up. 

"Oh, right! Chloe, we have a name now! A name for us together, I mean, if the others haven't told you yet. It's—"

Chloe raises a hand. "Wait. Why don't we have him introduce himself to me properly, later?" She pauses. "Do you think of your fusion as a singular 'he' or a plural 'they,' come to think of it? Or singular 'they,' that's a definite option." 

Connor exchanges a look with Nines, and then shrugs. "Anything works. We're kind of all of that at the same time when we're together." 

"Fair enough." Chloe walks towards them, placing a hand on Connor's arm before guiding them further inside. Kamski trails after them, arms folded into his sleeves. "Why don't the two of you relax in your room for a bit?" Chloe says. "Also, important question: do you like surprises?"

Nines narrows his eyes at her. "Why."

"We don't, usually," Connor answers for his brother. "Especially Nines."

"The loss of control is… discomfiting," Nines mutters. "I'd prefer transparency if you're planning anything. Please." 

"Of course," Chloe says kindly. "I'm planning to make a big dinner for all of you—you and your friends, that is. Afterwards, they'll offer their gifts to you. And—if the two of you wanted to fuse so you can both enjoy it, that'd be wonderful."

Nines blinks. "Oh. That'd be…" 

"Really nice," Connor finishes for him. 

"I was also wondering if you'd like to invite Gavin for dinner, too?" 

Connor hums. "It might be awkward for him since he doesn't know everyone else… maybe we can do another thing with the five of us tomorrow?"

"Something for friends, and something for family," Nines clarifies. "That would likely optimize the utility."

"Heh. A wise move," Kamski remarks. "I doubt Gavin will mix well with your friends."

They reach their room, then, and Chloe heads off to make dinner. "It'll take around two hours," she informs them. 

Kamski surveys their room for a moment before pulling his arms out of his sleeves, one hand closed in a fist. He turns his fist so his palm would face the ceiling, and then opens his hand, revealing— 

"Our crystal," Nines murmurs. Connor can see the pale light swirling within it, catching yellow and blue in the facets. 

"Yes. It's yours to do with as you wish." 

Nines reaches forward and takes it out of Kamski's hand, bringing it close to Connor. 

Connor wraps a hand around his brother's, thumb brushing over the crystal. He can feel his own magic, and Nines, but also something else. The unique tang of both of their magic, perfectly blended. Even after they unfused, this remnant of their unity lasts. 

"Thank you," Connor murmurs. 

"The two of you are the ones who made it," Kamski shrugs, before huffing quietly through his nose. "Don't worry, this doesn't count as my gift to you."

"We—you don't have to, Mr. Kamski," Connor can't help but say. "You've already given us so much."

Kamski gives Connor a look. "I want to," he says, before disappearing in a plume of smoke. 

Nines huffs.  _ Dramatic kind-of-bastard,  _ he remarks in their minds. 

Connor snorts in return, but elbows his brother before changing his clothes to his pajamas in a wash of Engarment—might as well get comfortable, and it's easy enough to change back.  _ You can't just say that.  _

_ Oh, but I didn't,  _ and Connor can feel his brother's smugness as Connor acknowledges that he's right. 

"Whatever," Connor huffs, flopping onto bed. He immediately turns around, though, and lifts an arm in invitation. 

Nines changes into his pajamas, then, in a wash of pale magic—choosing a shirt with a collar that can be unbuttoned, instead of the goth-snuggie-bat pajamas he likes to wear when he wants to be very comfy. 

So, feeding. Connor  _ has  _ been feeling pretty parched for some time, now.

Connor sits up as his brother climbs onto bed, immediately reaching for Nines's shoulders before dragging his hands to the collar, where Connor unfastens the buttons to slide away the fabric. 

Nines hums and closes his eyes as Connor's fingers graze the back of his neck, immediately relaxing under the touch, head listing to the side. Connor drops one hand to his brother's back, scooting closer, before using the leverage to press his face to exposed skin of Nines's neck. 

Connor breathes deeply, taking in the crisp, familiar scent, before letting instinct take over. He lifts his face up slightly, parting his mouth, letting his fangs lengthen, and then sinks in. He's immediately flooded with that wonderful, familiar taste, and Nines sighs, turning to putty in Connor's arms. Their minds reach for each other, wrapping around each other, filling the gaps. 

Like this, they can feel how different this is from fusion. This is—softer, somehow. More relaxed, a blissful togetherness, comfortable proximity. Fusion is—intense. He's not sure how else to describe it. Becoming one with your other half… It's like suddenly experiencing the world with a different set of senses. It's like feeling everything they feel for each other, all the time, running underneath the current of their mind. It's… He can't put it into words. It's  _ them.  _

Connor's glad to have both, and knows that Nines feels the same. 

Eventually, Connor is sated, and he pulls his fangs out of his brother, catching the stray blood with his tongue. Nines heals almost instantly now, but it still wouldn't do to make a mess. 

Nines sags against him, mind still in a comfortable haze, and Connor moves so that he's leaning against the headboard, holding his brother against his chest. Once he's settled in, Connor lifts a hand to scratch gently at the back of Nines's neck. 

If he wasn't a puddle before, he definitely is now. Connor can feel his brother's heartbeat, his slow breaths, as he melts in Connor's arms. Listening to it is calming, somehow. It's strange to know that he shared a heartbeat with his brother not too long ago. 

Connor lets himself drift. In the comfort, in the proximity of his brother's mind, in the secondary haziness he feels from his brother. Both of them feel untethered from everything but each other, and Connor's not sure who started it, but he can feel threads of connection weaving together, magic blending, and—… 

They blink up at the ceiling, still completely suffused with that warm comfort. It takes a moment for them to realize.

_ Oh,  _ they think, when they do.

Cion gathers the blankets in his arms, hugging them close to his chest. In the quiet, he can hear his heartbeat, slowly pulsing shared blood through him. 

They can stay like this for a bit. It's nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so unexpectedly soft for me ahdshgds no regrets
> 
> If you chuckled at the image of Connor and Nines following Kamski by holding hands, worry not. I did, too. 
> 
> Also, you can thank Lunar, my fantastic beta, for the fact that North left that message for Connor and Nines.


	7. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 3580

They split after about an hour. 

_ We should get ready,  _ they think, and like pulling a thread out of a cloth, they unravel, one becoming two once more. 

Nines is still wrapped around Connor when they separate, and he reluctantly peels himself from his brother, the hum of their unity lingering in his mind. He almost aches to fuse again, and part of him wonders if that might be something concerning. 

He lets the thought slip to the back of his mind as both of them change out of their pajamas—Nines wears a black turtleneck over black pants, as usual, while his brother puts on a casual white dress shirt over dark gray pants. 

The doorbell rings throughout the house, then—that must be the others arriving. Connor perks up, expression brightening, and Nines only huffs quietly as Connor grabs his arm and sunsteps them to the foyer. 

Chloe is already there, somehow, greeting Markus and the others who stand behind them: North, Josh, Simon, and Daniel. All of them are carrying various items wrapped in various kinds of packaging, and Nines feels the curiosity stir within him, reflected in Connor's mind. 

"The birthday boys themselves!" North calls out as soon as she sees them. She's returned to her human appearance, though her grin is just as… menacing, perhaps, is a word for it. "You bastards thought you could get away with hiding your birthday, huh?" 

Nines frowns slightly at her words, though. Josh immediately steps forward, "Hey, North says a lot of mean things, but—"

"It's not that," Nines interrupts. "I would just…" His gaze falls to the side, and he squeezes one of his arms. He doesn't often tell others, but they're fine, right? Connor likes them. Nines likes them. They've been good to them. "I would just prefer not to be referred to as a boy or a man."

"He's nonbinary," Connor says, and Nines knows he is leveling a challenging look at the others. Nines appreciates the gesture. "He uses masculine pronouns, but he's not a guy." 

With his eyes glued to the floor, Nines can't see their actions—but Markus says almost immediately, "Thanks for telling us. We'll keep it in mind." 

Nines looks up, and sees that the faces of the others are not, in fact, filled with discomfort. North even smiles at him, not menacingly, and says, "Hey, most fae are nonbinary—we don't actually have sexes or genders, so to speak. You're valid, and you know what?" She flips her hair, rather dramatically. "I'll fight anyone who disagrees." 

Nines's gaze falls back to the floor, but this time, he can't help the slight smile on his face. "Thank you. That is reassuring, given that we've seen how you fight firsthand." He pauses, then, as his mind runs over the memories. "You—you really stabbed and poisoned us." 

Connor blinks, as he undoubtedly goes through the same thing Nines just has. "Holy shit, she really stabbed and poisoned us." 

At that, Chloe speaks up. "She what now?"

"We had a duel," Connor says quickly. "Uh, she didn't hold back, basically."

Nines lifts a hand to his abdomen, brow furrowed. He remembers the sensation, he remembers how they felt… 

_ Nines?  _ Connor prods. 

_ We were rather unconcerned with being so gravely injured. Though I suppose— _

"Hey, you two okay?"

Nines blinks at Markus's voice, looking up. "Oh. I was thinking that if either one of us were injured that badly, we would not likely shrug it off so easily. I don't have reduced pain sensitivity, and Connor does not have the class of regenerative healing I do. That is to say, both of us would have been incapacitated for different reasons." 

"You have an interesting way of saying that one of you will be too busy writhing in pain and the other would be too busy being a half-dead mess on the ground," Daniel notes dryly. 

Nines blinks. "I suppose that is another way to put it, yes." 

"Alright," Chloe says, gesturing to the inside of the house, "Let's get you all inside first. But we will be talking about this later, alright?" She smiles, and it's a smile that feels dangerous. 

"Fair enough," North shrugs, while Connor gives an "okay" and Nines nods. 

They gather in one of the lounges, seating themselves on the couches surrounding a central glass table. Markus and Josh sit on one of the four sofas, Simon and Daniel on another, North gets her own, and Connor and Nines, of course, are sitting together. Chloe lets them be, "Dinner will be ready soon, please wait here for a bit," before padding off to the kitchen. 

"So, uh," Josh starts, "Come here often?"

Nines stares at him. "We live here."

Josh hides his face in his hands. "Yeah, I knew that. Please ignore me." 

Markus pats Josh on the shoulder. "Really, though. I'm not really sure what I expected of your place, but it's surprisingly… spacious. Minimalistic. It's just the four of you here, right? You two, Chloe, and Mr. Kamski?"

"Yeah." Connor leans against Nines's side. "And we don't get lonely, not with each other."

Simon hums. "Fair. So…" He laces his fingers together in his lap. "Fusion. And now you're apart. How is everything?"

"Our magic is… I guess, sticking to each other," Connor says, sitting up. "The array was integrated into our souls, so it's a lot easier for us to fuse, now. We," he laughs nervously, "We accidentally fused after feeding—right before this, actually." 

Accidentally… hmm. Nines was simply reaching for Connor, then, and he didn't really think about which threads of connection he was reaching for. He may have had a hand in initiating the spell. 

"Do you think that might be a problem?" Markus's face is concerned. "If you keep fusing accidentally, that could be inconvenient."

Nines hums. "The situation was one in which we were both very relaxed—whether we fused or not was not much of a cause for concern. I don't believe we'll have problems regulating the flow of the spell if it comes down to it."

"Fair enough," Markus shrugs, leaning back into the couch. 

"Is it tiring to fuse and unfuse?" Josh seems to have recovered from his mortification, now sitting up again. 

"I'm not actually sure," Connor answers. "We feel fine now, after fusing not too long ago, but using the spell probably depletes our reserves of magic."

"It could be the integration," Nines surmises. "It might make the overall process more efficient."

Connor lifts a finger to his chin. "Huh. That does make sense." 

"Do you think other people could do it?" Nines turns as Simon starts to speak. "Use your fusion spell, I mean."

Nines lifts a hand to his chest. "... In theory, I suppose. But…" 

"I don't think we're ready to share it," Connor says. "Not yet, at least. Not to mention getting it approved and everything for general public use, what with it being both a body and soul modification spell." 

Very true. Connor had learned much more about the legalities of magic society since last winter, and Nines feels a sense of pride that they can stand on equal footing on this, as well. 

"Our bond was already strong before we fused—from our split-soul connection, the psychic bond of our feedings." Nines taps a finger on his leg. "I do not know how much the spell would change depending on the level of connection between the components pre-fusion. It certainly did mutate when we cast it." 

Josh hums. "I guess, for you two—it's like you're returning to singularity, instead of making something entirely new and unknown?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say that," Nines answers. "We've developed apart for twenty-two—" he pauses. "Twenty-three years, now. Despite our connection, our similarities, we are very different." 

Chloe takes this moment to reappear, then, peeking out of the side of an entryway. "Hey, everyone! Dinner's ready, would you like to come eat? You can leave the gifts here." 

A chorus of affirmatives arise from them, and they shortly make their way to the dining room table—a long, sleek, black rectangle arranged with empty plates. Another table lines the side of the room, piled with Chloe's food—pasta, steak, salads, among other things. Nines can smell it already, and he can't deny that he's eager to try it with Connor. 

Kamski is waiting for them, dressed in a slightly more formal set of robes. "Welcome," he greets. "Feel free to grab what you like, if you can or would like to eat," he instructs, nodding towards North at the end of his sentence. "Simon, Daniel, we have some freshly donated type O negative blood here, too." 

"What about Connor?" Josh asks. "And you and Chloe, for that matter."

"Elijah and I will also partake of the blood," Chloe answers. "As for Connor," she laughs lightly, "I'm surprised it didn't come up. He'll eat with Nines, fused." 

The others look at them in surprise, though Markus is the one to speak first. "You did mention you could eat like that, huh." 

Nines nods, before turning to Connor on his right and holding out his hand. Connor steps forward, taking it, shifting their grip so that their fingers are interlaced as they step closer even to each other. Nines takes Connor's other hand, interlacing them as well, before they both call their magic forward. Nines watches as Connor's irises turn to gold, his pupils constricting into thin slits glowing with magic, before closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Connor's. 

"I feel like I should look away," someone mutters, though Nines doesn't identify who before they're falling into each other, enveloped by each other's magic, blending, threading, being unwoven and rewoven into one. 

Cion opens their eyes as the magic fades, refocusing on their surroundings. Kamski is watching impassively. Chloe is watching with interest, head slightly tilted. North is watching with unabashed curiosity. The others are also curious, though with varying levels of disconcertion. 

"We don't mind if you look," they say. "We aren't ashamed of our closeness."

"It feels private," Simon protests, one hand held to his face as he looks somewhere off to the side. They conclude that he must have been the one that spoke up during the spell.

They shrug. "You're our friends. We don't mind. Anyways," they turn to Chloe, a grin teasing at their lips. "To more formally introduce myself—I'm Cion. Without an 's' at the beginning." 

Chloe giggles, holding out a hand. "A wonderful name. Nice to more formally meet you." 

Cion takes her hand, and after a moment, they feel a sudden urge to—to—they pull her into a hug, and she makes a startled "Oh!" before reciprocating, patting them on the back. "Happy birthday, Cion."

They squeeze tighter for a moment, before letting go. "Thanks, Chloe," he says. "I, um, I'm not sure what came over us? I guess Nines wants hugs more but Connor's more likely to initiate shows of affection… or something," they mutter, chin in their hand. 

"Nines likes being hugged?" Josh asks, and Cion turns around to look at him. 

They pause for a second or two, and then, "Yes. Depending on the situation. But he usually won't initiate in the instances he might want one. And sometimes he really  _ doesn't  _ want to be touched by others, so. Yeah." 

"That's so sad," North says dramatically. "It makes  _ me  _ want to hug you. Him?" 

"Either works," Cion shrugs. "I am not all him and he is not all of me. And," they shift their weight on their feet. "We wouldn't be opposed to hugging all of you right now. If that's okay?"

North brightens, grinning in a way that doesn't seem entirely human. "Dogpile?"

"NO," they say quickly, "please. That's. A lot."

She snickers. "I was mostly joking." 

Thankfully, they hug the others one at a time, getting a "Happy birthday" from each of them, too. They find that Josh's hugs are very comfy, Markus is gentle and warm, Simon is polite, Daniel is awkward, and North hugs like she's not afraid to break Cion's bones. 

"Mercy," they wheeze, a laugh in their voice. North snickers and lets them go—all said, her hug wasn't terribly painful. Just surprising. 

Everyone goes to grab their food—or blood—and Cion notices that there are only six chairs around the table. "Mr. Kamski, Chloe," he calls out, "Are you two going to join us?"

Kamski raises an eyebrow at them. "We were intending to leave you all be. After all, we have our own thing tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes," Cion says, "But… I…" they fidget, pulling a quarter out of their magic storage to fiddle with. They watch the metal dance across their fingers. "If you wanted to…" 

A touch lands on their arm, and they see that Kamski has shadow-stepped in front of them. "If that is what you want."

They nod, and North calls out, "Hey, this is our chance to get to know the other important people in your life— _ we _ can hang out all the time, but you can't just rob us of the chance to chat with legit supernatural celebrities."

Right. They don't really think about that all that much anymore, but it is true, huh. 

They gather around the table shortly, Kamski pulling another two chairs out of the shadows. Cion sits at one end of the table, Kamski at the other with Chloe next to him. North sits next to Chloe, and Josh takes the seat next to her, which is also to Cion's left. To their right is Markus, Simon, and Daniel—who doesn't look terribly comfortable with the fact that he's right next to Kamski. Oh well. 

To their pleasant surprise, it's not as awkward as they expect. Kamski's dry humor smooths the initial awkwardness, and Chloe and North strike up a conversation—after the former grills the latter for her treatment of Cion during the duel—that leaves them wondering whether they're in danger. Of good things or bad things, they're not sure. 

The vampires—Kamski, Chloe, Simon, and Daniel—sip at their elegant wine glasses of fresh blood, and the scent is… very pleasant. They're not drawn to it as Connor is to Nines's blood, or even as drawn as he is to regular blood, but they still do ask for their own at some point out of curiosity. They find, then, that they do taste blood as vampires do. It's  _ wonderful  _ going down their throat, though it doesn't come near Connor's experience with Nines's blood. 

And of course, it's nowhere near as good as Chloe's food. They drop out of the conversation at some point just to savor the flavor, the fact that they can enjoy all of this together, as Cion. It's only when they feel a light touch on their shoulder—Josh, they find, when they look—that they realize the table has gone quiet, and there are tears in their eyes. 

"You okay?" Josh asks, face pinched with concern. 

"Yeah, we're—we're okay, it's just really good, you're all really good. Nice. I feel… I feel kinda warm and fuzzy." They hold a hand to their chest. "Right here…" 

"Aww, you're so pure!" North grins, holding her hands to her cheeks. "So much more open than either of you, it feels like."

"I—pure?" They shift in their seat, gaze shifting to the side. "I don't know…"

North makes an excited sound, shaking Josh on the arm. "They're blushing! Guys, look, they're blushing!"

They respond by putting their face in their hands. "Nooo," they say, muffled. "Please leave us alone." 

Markus gives them a commiserating pat. "There, there." 

It sounds like he's trying not to laugh. They feel betrayed, and would like nothing more than to melt into the shadows of the floor.

It's only after they hear various sounds of surprise, strangely distant, that they realize they seem to have done exactly that. Melt into the shadows, that is. It feels a lot like the in-between of a shadow-step—weightless, sightless. Though they are able to sense the forms of light and darkness around them, as well as the souls of everyone in the room. 

North's feels noticeably  _ other,  _ which is not unexpected. Kamski is darkness, and Markus is a dangerous radiance. Simon and Daniel are similar to Josh's, though Josh seems more malleable, somehow, while the twins have the metaphysical scent of blood and darkness. Chloe's is—strange. Similar to Simon's and Daniel's, but it feels like something's missing. 

They think they could restore it. 

"Cion? Where did you go?" 

That's Josh, they think. Sound is strange when you're a shadow. They also feel oddly comfy and safe. 

"Allow me to check." 

That's Kamski. They absently notice him approach and lift their chair, probably looking at the shadow underneath. Them, that is. They wonder if the shadow they're in looks different. 

"Hmm…" He drags a foot through their shadow, not that they feel anything physical in this state. They're entirely intangible. "Impressive shadow possession. I can barely tell you're there at all. But you do need to come out."

They decide to form a shadowy hand, pat his foot, and retreat back into the normal shape of their shadow. They're comfortable right where they are. 

"Was that a hand?" they hear Simon ask. 

"Yes. Come now, Cion. Don't make me pull you out."

Cion is suddenly sure that being pulled out would be extremely uncomfortable. They gather themselves and solidify into their physical form, finding themself lying on the floor, Kamski still holding the chair above them. "Huh," they say. "That was… different." 

"I would expect so," Kamski says. "Now move over and get up so I can put this down."

They roll to the side and pull themself up to their feet. Kamski immediately puts the chair down and disperses into smoke, reappearing in his seat. Dramatic as always. 

Cion takes their seat, noticing the curious looks of the others. They clear their throat, "Didn't know we could do that, actually."

"Shadow possession is quite common for dark-aligned entities," Kamski says. "Though it is usually rather tiring for those who are normally tangible. How do you feel?"

Cion blinks. "We just kind of felt far away and comfortable. We feel fine now."

Kamski sighs. "It wasn't that long, so I suppose it'd be difficult to say for sure. But I wouldn't be surprised if you could stay like that for quite some time."

The rest of the dinner is relatively uneventful, blessedly. Though they expect they'll be heckled about hiding as a shadow in embarrassment at some point. 

After what Cion assumes Kamski deems to be a socially acceptable time after finishing dinner, their mentor waves his hand, dissipating all their plates into smoke, which coalesces into clean dessert plates and a cake in front of them. 

"We weren't entirely sure what you liked, but we figured vanilla flavoring is hard to dislike," he says. 

Cion blinks. "Vanilla is Nines's favorite flavor."

"That is," Daniel remarks, "so much more basic than I expected of him. What's Connor's?"

"For cake? Red velvet."

"Good taste," North nods. 

"For future reference, both of us like cheesecake, heavy as it is. We'd make it together every now and then, before…" Cion blinks again. "Before everything."

"You should make it again sometime, then," Simon smiles at them. "Maybe you'll let us have a taste?"

Cion feels the slightest smile forming on their face, too. "That'd be nice."

The cake is circular, coated in smooth white frosting and emblazoned with  _ Happy Birthday!  _ followed by  _ Nines  _ on the left and  _ Connor  _ on the right. A ring of candles have been placed on the edges of the cake, alternating between gold and silver-blue.

They deliberately light all the silver ones with white fire and the gold ones with yellow fire—luckily, they have fairly precise control, and it only takes a moment for them to focus on the layout and spontaneously combust the tips of the candles. 

The others sing Happy Birthday to them—an interesting chorus of voices. The part when they say the name was rather amusing, with some saying "Cion," some saying "Connor and Nines" and some scrambling to say all three. 

It's nice. They  _ are  _ happy, they think, and they find themselves unable to contain the smile on their face. 

Kamski tells them to make a wish and they wonder. Do they get three wishes? One as Nines, one as Connor, and one as Cion? Or just a singular, united wish? 

Cion thinks… Nines just wants to be with Connor, happy together. But they already have that. Connor wants—that, too, but also… he'd wish they could be cherished as who they are. By their family, their friends. 

And Cion. If he could have his own wish, would it be different? He wants what Connor and Nines wants. He wonders… would he wish to  _ be  _ Cion more often? To exist together like this for longer? 

Maybe. 

But no matter what they wish for, they're happy now. With their friends eagerly waiting for them to blow out the candles, with Chloe smiling and—of course she's taking pictures. With Kamski watching them as well, an easy smile on his face. With their souls united, wound together so perfectly into one being. 

This, they think, is the one of the best birthdays they've ever had. Far more involved than they're used to—maybe they're making up for all their quiet birthdays. They're grateful for this, though. Pleased. 

Cion holds their wishes in their heart, leaning forward, before blowing out the candles. 

They wonder what the future holds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it feels like an ending, but I think of it more as... the end of the beginning. 
> 
> also I will die on the hill of nonbinary Nines
> 
> For the record, Cion is very *shrugs* when it comes to gender sjhgf I mean, they use he, they, we, and I as they please   
> They just Are


	8. Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening gifts and family bonding time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 4699
> 
> It's been a hot minute, huh. At least you get an extra long chapter, hehe. 
> 
> Also! My classes will be starting up tomorrow, so I'll be trying to get a regular posting schedule for my fics. If you're interested in seeing the schedule or early updates, check out my google sheet of the tentative schedule [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/14mF6Rm_CTutT-3XSqsCcDDv2vyKzEoc0RNywZlKxD3g/edit#gid=1114913519)!

The party winds to a close soon after they finish the cake. They're exhausted, more mentally than physically, and despite the fun, they're glad when everyone starts getting ready to go. 

"I guess we should split," Cion notes as everyone gathers in the foyer. They tug at the thread of their tapestry of self, unraveling into two once more. 

Connor finds his arms wrapped around his brother's back, face buried in Nines's neck, and Nines is doing much the same. Connor lifts himself away and Nines shortly follows, their eyes meeting for a moment before turning to face their guests. Nines’s arm is still wrapped loosely around Connor. 

"Thank you for coming," Nines says. "It was… fun."

"I don't think we've ever had a party with so many people." Connor laughs lightly. "It's different, but yeah—it was fun."

Everyone says their farewells, and after North asks Nines if she can hug him, plenty of hugs are exchanged all around. Even if Connor couldn't feel the shy happiness in his brother's mind, he would be able to tell by the smile on Nines's face. He's glad his brother’s finally getting some hug action.

Kamski and Chloe send them to bed, insisting that they'll take care of cleanup, and they knock out with little complaint—both of them slipping into oblivion within minutes of hitting the pillow. 

The next morning, they wake up in a pile of entangled limbs. All of their presents have been gathered in a corner of their room, with a handwritten note stuck very blatantly in the front. 

_Feel free to open these when you wake up. There are some things from me, Chloe, and Gavin, as well._

_— EK_

It's very pretty handwriting. It's also very hard to read and probably written with a fountain pen, and Connor's not sure why that's exactly what he expected from Kamski. Nines needs a moment of blinking blearily and rubbing his eyes before being able to decipher it. 

Once they do, though, they get started on the gifts. They decide to take turns—Connor would grab one randomly, and Nines would find the one meant for him by the same person. And then Nines would grab one randomly. 

They end up getting Simon's first: he got a _very_ fancy book for each of them. _The Stories Woven in Traces_ for Connor, which details the history and methods of deciphering spells and magical events from lingering traces of magic. _The Beginning of Nothingness_ for Nines, which goes into depth about the origins of magic. 

Both of them are very pleased. 

Chloe gives Connor a cookbook of her secret recipes. He sheds a bit of a tear at that. Nines pats him on the back. Nines then finds out that she has a whole pile of different kinds of fabrics to use as raw materials for Nines's Engarment experiments, and it's Connor's turn to pat Nines on the back. 

Next is Daniel. Nines gets a collection of ten dragon scales, each of a different species, and Connor's fairly sure Nines's eyes sparkle as much as the scales. Connor gets a giant griffin feather charm—Daniel assures him it wasn't taken by force. No griffins were harmed and all that. Still, a primary feather of a griffin is incredibly hard to come by, and Connor is grateful for it. 

Josh gives Nines a book—science fiction, something about aliens. Nines seems to be interested. Apparently the alien main character made Josh think of him, and Nines seems inordinately pleased about that. Not entirely unexpected, given that he likes aliens and other neat creatures. Connor also gets a book—a reimagining of Sherlock Holmes written after the reveal of magic society, integrating elements of magic. Connor's excited to read it.

They find another package from Josh, to their surprise. For Cion. The card inside says, _I was having a crisis about whether I should consider Cion to be an entity different from each of you. In the end, I got you something small, hope you like it!_

Huh.

"We can fuse and open it later?" Nines suggests. 

Connor agrees, and they continue. 

Gavin gives Connor a small dog plush and Nines a small cat plush. He's not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't that. The notes are delightfully awkward, too. Connor thinks he's doing his best. 

North got them plants from the fae realm. Connor's is a green sprout in a small pot—veins of gold glow faintly. Nines's looks a little like bamboo, with straight stalks and leaves coming off of it. Motes of pale gold light drift from it. Her notes to them basically say that they need neither sun nor water, and will definitely not grow to a problematic size in a few years. A few decades? Maybe. But hey, Connor's plant's sap makes an excellent tea, and Nines's plant is one of the best to grab a few leaves to stick in a bath for relaxing aromatherapy. Maybe Cion can try it sometime. 

Interesting. 

From Markus, Connor gets a magic blueprint for light knives. He can tweak it to his preferences, but it's definitely fancier than the blades he normally forms out of his magic. 

"I can't believe he gave you knives," Nines says.

"I like knives, though!"

"… Fair."

Nines gets a shiny silver letter opener that looks like a sword. 

"I can't believe he gave you a tiny sword… No one even uses physical letters anymore!"

"I have no complaints whatsoever."

Kamski's they save for last, because it's blatantly obvious that it's his. A simple black box, slim and rectangular. It seems there's only one box, but when they open it, they see why. There's another card with elegant handwriting, and Nines squints at it a bit to read it.

_"I know you two spend almost every waking hour together, but perhaps you might still find some use of these. Perhaps it will encourage the two of you to be more independent. They are, of course, charmed. Against all sorts of damage and to adjust size, but also with a spell: if the two of you wear these, you will always be able to locate each other's precise location, as well as teleport to each other. It is spatial magic, so few obstacles would be able to keep you."_

Connor blinks. "Did he just give us mutual trackers?"

Nines lifts the card. "Very pretty ones."

Underneath that card are two rings—both look like they're made of glass, with one lined in gold and the other in silver. Nines takes the silver one, of course, slipping it onto the middle finger of his right hand. Connor takes the gold one and puts it on his left. He feels it adjust to perfectly match his finger. 

Nines slides his hand into Connor's, interlacing, seeing the contrast of their rings together. He hums softly, leaning on Connor's side. "I like them."

"Me, too."

"Mm. Fuse? For Josh's…"

"Yeah," Connor says, and they pull at the threads of their magic. The glass parts of the rings glow with the color of their magic, gold for Connor and icy blue for Nines, until both turn white and everything turns bright and—they are one.

Cion's hands are interlaced, the way Connor and Nines were. He feels warmth in him at the thought. He pulls apart their hands, noticing that they're now wearing both rings: Connor's on the left and Nines's on the right. Ironic, since Nines is left-dominant and Connor is right-dominant. Fair reason, though: they wanted to keep their writing hands free. 

He reaches for Josh's last gift, carefully dissecting the packaging to get inside. It's a chalcedony gem tree, as it turns out—they think Connor vaguely recalls the white gemstones symbolize unity or something like that. Fitting. They smile, feeling warm all over, and then start giggling, letting themself fall backwards on the carpet. 

They're so _happy._ As Nines, as Connor, as Cion. Everyone's so _nice._ They'll have to return the favor for their birthdays. They just… feel so warm and fuzzy that all they want to do is roll around the floor. 

They compromise with rolling onto their stomach and then manifesting shadow hands to fold up all the bags and wrapping paper and stick them in the boxes. Then they roll onto their back and arrange all the books onto their mostly-empty bookshelf. Then they teleport everything else into place with light magic, and proceed to sigh happily and continue to lie on the floor.

"… What are you doing on the floor, Cion?" Kamski asks, exasperated, after some amount of time. 

Cion opens their eyes to see Kamski bent over them, eyebrow raised. "I just wanted to roll on the floor a bit. Everyone's so nice, Mr. Kamski. You're so nice. Can we hug you?"

Kamski blinks. "Very well."

They hold their arms up. Kamski stares. They stare back. Kamski sighs and lowers himself to his knees before sliding his hands behind their back and lifting them up to his chest. They hum contentedly, melting into the touch. 

"You're ridiculous," Kamski murmurs, but he just sounds fond. "I see you're wearing the rings."

"We are. We like them. Thank you, Mr. Kamski."

"Mm." He lifts a hand to their hair, and Cion thinks he might just melt into the floor. "Would you like to eat breakfast?"

"Mmmm… yes…"

Kamski snorts. "Alright, come on, then." 

* * *

Breakfast is a fairly simple affair—waffles with strawberries. They're very good. Cion thinks he might be a little excited from both the happiness and the sugar, though, and he feels like they're practically vibrating in their seat when they tell Chloe and Kamski about all their presents. 

They're sure to give Chloe a hug that expresses _just_ how much they appreciate her. She laughs, voice a little tight. "You're very strong," she says, and Cion lets go.

"Sorry." 

"Vampires are resilient," she laughs again. "No need to worry."

They peer at her for a bit, though, and she tilts her head. "What is it?"

"Your soul…" They take her hands, frowning. If they focus their magic on her, they can get that _feeling_ again. "It feels like something's missing. We think we can restore it if we try…"

Chloe blinks and exchanges a glance with Kamski. 

"You…" Cion squints. "You used to be a witch, right? I'm almost sure."

Chloe's eyebrows lift, and then she smiles a little sadly. "That's very likely. But I don't remember anything, and I wonder if that's for the best. After all, if I used to be a witch, that means I used to have a familiar, and they must be no more."

"Is that what's missing?" They murmur, staring into her eyes. Staring into her soul. "Do you want that back?"

"Cion," Kamski says, putting a hand on their shoulder. "You don't know if you can do that."

"But… " They frown, looking to where their hands are linked with Chloe's. "Somehow, we feel like we _can."_ They let go, lifting their hands. "Blood, light, soul magic… surely, I can heal a soul. I can heal _hers."_

"You don't know what it would take out of you. Your magic isn't limitless."

They clench their hands into fists. "We just…"

"I know you just want to help, Cion, and that's okay." Chloe lifts her hand to their face. "We can bring this up another time, okay? Once you're more familiar with your limits."

Cion closes his eyes and nods. "Okay," they murmur, subdued. 

After that, they go to their room. They're planning to meet Gavin after lunch, and the rest of the morning is spent texting all of their friends. They split at one point so they can text them individually—not to mention that they don't know how Gavin will respond to Cion yet. Connor flops over Nines's back—he's on his stomach—and Nines makes a discontent grumble. But Connor can feel the affection in his mind, so they stay like that as they whittle away the hours. 

At some point, Nines tosses his phone to the side and asks, _Drink?_ So Connor sits up, pulls Nines up in his lap, his back to Connor's chest. He pushes Nines's collar down and carefully bites the side of his neck. Nines relaxes against Connor, head on Connor's shoulder, sighing softly, and Connor transitions to hugging his brother tightly as he savors that taste of _Nines._ He can never get enough of it. They melt into each other mentally, though this time they manage not to fuse. Somehow. 

Eventually, Connor unlatches his fangs, licks the wound until it closes, and then readjusts Nines's collar so it's back to covering his entire neck. _Love you, Connor,_ comes the faint, dazed thought. 

Connor smiles against Nines's shoulder. _Love you too, Nines._

Nines gives a content hum. 

Lunch passes quickly. Nines eats on his own; Cion can't hog _all_ the meals. Besides, Connor just fed, so he's not complaining too much. 

Connor and Nines meet up with Gavin first—Kamski and Chloe take too long deliberating what "normal people clothes" they want to wear for the public. As much as they like to strut around in their very stylish clothes, it's nice not to have to deal with all the staring.

Connor sunsteps Nines and himself to the address he'd memorized earlier. Becoming light is still an interesting sensation—it's as though he becomes spatially aware of all of the light around him. Similar to how Nines becomes spatially aware of the forms of shadows. Plus, with how fast he moves, it's as though he becomes aware of a whole pathway of light. The first time he tried it was very dizzying, to say the least. 

In any case. They appear in a flash, hands interlocked. Connor opens his eyes to see that they're in the parking lot of a shopping area, standing next to a fountain.

"Fuck, that's so bright…"

Connor lets go of Nines's hand and turns towards the voice, seeing Gavin lowering his hand. He must've been shielding his eyes just now. "Hello, Gavin," Connor says. Nines simply lifts a hand in greeting. 

"Hey, Connor. Hey, Nines." Gavin shoves his hands in his pockets. "Guessing Eli and Chloe are still deliberating their fashion choices?"

Connor laughs. "Pretty much."

Gavin nods and then looks off to the side. "So, uh…"

"Thank you for your gifts to us, Gavin," Nines says. He smiles slightly. "We like them. They're very… cute." He mumbles that last bit. 

"They're very soft, too!" Connor adds. "I appreciate that. I like soft things."

"Oh." Gavin scuffs the ground. "Glad you like them. Wasn't sure what you'd like." 

Nines gives an amused huff. "You _did_ say as much in the notes." He laces his fingers together in front of his chest, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. Connor gives a curious prod at his brother's mind, and is rewarded with a nebulous image of a hug. 

_There's no harm in asking, Nines._

Nines frowns slightly. … _You ask, then?_

Connor snorts and turns to Gavin. "Can we hug you?" 

The detective blinks, clearly surprised. "Uh, yeah. Sure." He seems more surprised when Nines approaches first, hands slightly raised, hesitating. Gavin scoffs, taking Nines into his arms. "Come on, Nines. I don't bite." 

"Mm," Nines hums, laying his hands on Gavin's back. "Thank you."

"What, for a hug?" Gavin huffs, patting Nines on the back. "Anytime. Really."

Nines nods and releases him, and Connor steps up to hug Gavin. It's still always a bit of a surprise how nice his hugs are, considering his personality. They're warm and stable. Very different from Kamski's still-stiff embraces, but Connor figures their mentor is trying his best. 

There's a soft whooshing sound. Connor and Gavin separate and all the of them turn around to see Kamski and Chloe stepping out of the shadows, with Chloe on Kamski's arm. She lets go to wave at them, smiling brightly. 

Connor waves back, Nines raises his hand briefly, and Gavin gives a nod. "Nice outfits," Gavin remarks. 

They are, in fact, very nice outfits, despite their attempts to dress like "normal people." Kamski is wearing a black blazer over a dark blue high-necked shirt and black pants. Chloe is wearing a pale blue sleeveless dress that goes to her thighs, along with dark gray arm sleeves and leggings. 

"I'm not sure that's what 'normal people' wear," Nines remarks. No mercy, as always. 

Kamski sniffs indignantly. "Mundane humans do wear this sort of thing."

"Certainly," Nines concedes, nodding. "The ones rolling in money, of course."

Gavin laughs brightly. "You're really calling him out, huh? God, this is great."

"Don't we have a reservation, Gavin?" Kamski straightens his blazer. "Time is, as they say, wasting."

Gavin snorts. "Yeah, alright. Let's go."

They all trail after Gavin as he leads them to a storefront that reads, _Tea and Whiskers,_ with a logo of a cat curled around a teacup. A cat cafe that Gavin had suggested. Connor was interested when Gavin brought it up as an option, but what really sold the decision was the way Nines's eyes glittered as he looked imploringly at Connor. 

So here they are. The receptionist squints at Kamski none-too-subtly, though Gavin quickly steps up to confirm the reservation under his name.

For the entire cafe, it looks like. Connor has a feeling Kamski asked Gavin to put in a special request to have the entire place to themselves. Probably paid for it, too.

Before long, all five of them are seated on couches around a coffee table. Connor and Nines sit on one couch together, Nines on the left, and the other three sit across from them. All of them have a cup of steaming tea on the table, though Nines's attention is elsewhere—he's practically wriggling in his seat as he watches the nearby cats approach curiously. 

"You two ever been in a cat cafe before?" Gavin asks.

"No," Connor shakes his head. "Nines brought it up before, but we just never got around to it."

"I've been wanting to for a while, honestly," Nines says absently. He lowers his hand to a gray tabby, and Connor watches as it pokes its nose at his fingers before pushing its face into his hand.

Connor hears what can only be described as an internal squee in his mind. _Connor, it's so soft! It's pushing its face into my hand… hhh…_

A loud snort escapes Connor. "Sorry," he says, covering his mouth. "Nines's internal voice is very different from his external reactions right now."

Gavin nods. "That's fair, very fair. Still got that psychic shit going on, then?"

"Mhm," Connor confirms, watching Nines as he bends over the arm of the sofa.

 _There's another one,_ Nines informs Connor. He sticks his other arm over the edge of the sofa. _Connor, I love them._

Connor scoots over to lean on Nines's back and see. Sure enough, a ragdoll cat has joined the tabby, and Nines is doing his very best to pet them both. 

_They're so soft._ Nines sends the sensation directly, and Connor hums, feeling the wonderful softness for himself. 

"They're very soft indeed," Connor agrees easily.

"Wait, you're not touching them yourself, though?" Gavin mutters.

"We can share sensations," Connor says, closing his eyes and leaning more heavily on his brother. "Not too much of a stretch from sharing thoughts, really…"

Kamski snorts. "You make it sound so easy. It's not such an easy matter for those without a bond as strong as yours." 

"Mmm," both Connor and his brother hum in acknowledgement.

He hears a tinkling laugh, and turns to see Chloe smiling at them, now with a cat in her lap. "You two are very cute together." She runs one hand down its back, and the cat arches its back under the touch. "It's almost like the two of you are cats yourselves, the way you're sitting."

She has a point. Nines is draped over the end of the sofa, and Connor is practically laying on top of him. 

"Being a cat seems very nice," Nines mumbles. "I would like to be a cat." 

Kamski snorts. "I can teach you a shapeshifting spell if you like. Considering that you've already successfully constructed a new kind of body modification spell, it shouldn't be too difficult."

"They what now?" Gavin sits up. "You two _made_ a spell?"

Ah, right. Gavin hasn't met Cion yet. Connor sits up to face the detective, leaving Nines to pet the cats. "It was mostly Nines, really."

"You helped, though," Nines hedges. "Group effort."

Connor huffs. "True."

"What spell did the two of you make?" Gavin asks. 

"A fusion spell, essentially." Connor runs a hand down Nines's back as if he, too, were a cat. "Our souls reunite, and we become one entity."

Nines hums, melting into the couch at Connor's touch. "We wanted to be… one. Neither of us were happy with the idea of a demon having been closer to unity with Connor than me."

"W-wait, really?" Gavin's brow furrows. "Is that safe?"

Nines sits up, sighing. "Obviously. We made absolutely sure."

Gavin opens his mouth, hesitates. "What about… mentally, though? You two are really close, yeah, but is it really safe for the two of you to get so entangled that you're just… one person, I guess?"

It's a fair question, and Connor is still pondering his answer when Nines speaks up. "It's comforting for us. It's…" He reaches for Connor's left hand with his right, interlacing their fingers. The hands with the rings—Gavin glances down at them with a slightly bemused look. 

"It feels like completion," Connor finishes. "Do you want to meet us, together?"

Gavin glances at Kamski. "Is that allowed?"

"I'm allowing it," Kamski waves his hand dismissively. 

"Right…" Gavin looks back at Connor and Nines. "Sure, then."

Connor tugs at the array within them, leaning towards his brother. He feels Nines do the same, and their magic intertwines once again. They are two halves… and then they are one. 

Cion opens their eyes, gaze landing on Gavin. "Hello, Gavin," he says. "You can call us Cion. Without an 's.' It's nice to meet you." 

"Uh… hey," Gavin greets, raising his hand before letting it fall. "So you're… both Connor and Nines? Do you remember everything they both do?"

They nod. "We can recall anything they individually recall."

"Huh." Gavin laces his hands together. "What's with the, uh… rings?"

Cion lifts his hands up. "Oh, these? Mr. Kamski gave them to us. They basically let us—um, Connor and Nines—track each other if we're apart, and teleport to one another whenever we like."

"Jesus Christ," Gavin laughs. "Eli, you actually gave them trackers? And—rings, really?"

Kamski hums. "They have said they like them."

"We do," Cion confirms. "They're very pretty, and… well, it's reassuring to know we'd be a moment away, even apart."

Gavin squints. "Is this a roundabout attempt to get the two of you to spend more time independently?"

Huh. That… makes some amount of sense, actually. 

Kamski only laughs, though. "Who can say?"

"You bastard," Gavin says, elbowing him. "Anyways, uh…" he trails off, though Chloe picks up his slack. 

"Are you enjoying the cafe, Cion?" 

Cion blinks. "Oh. Well… _we_ were liking it, but _I_ haven't had a chance to experience it as myself, really." They huff in amusement. "To be completely honest… we're still very excited to be in a cat cafe. Are the two cats from earlier still here?" Cion glances over the edge of the sofa, spotting one cat grooming itself and the other sprawled lengthily on the floor. "They are! _Yes_ ," they say, letting the 's' linger. 

He slides off the couch, slinking over to sit on the floor along with the cats, arms and legs tucked underneath himself. He then lays his head down in front of the one lounging, and the cat blinks at them curiously. 

After a moment of staring, Cion reaches up and runs his right hand across the back of the cat, and it scrunches its eyes shut.

That is so cute. So wonderful. 

Another cat approaches, a different one from before—a black cat. It steps over his arm and pokes at his face with its nose, and Cion can't help their giggle. 

They shift so that they're laying on their stomach before lifting a finger, calling just the slightest bit of magic forward to manifest a shadow. It extends into a string-like tendril, and they form a ball of light at the end before dangling it in front of the black cat. 

It immediately tries to grab at the light, but Cion pulls it away. It chases after it, pouncing on it whenever they let it drag on the ground, only for Cion to pull it away easily. Shadows and light only have substance when they want them to, after all. 

"For fuck's sake," they hear Gavin mutter. "Just some mild reality bending, no big deal."

Kamski laughs, though Cion doesn't get a chance to respond before there's something stepping on their back. They twist their head around to see that a cat has made their back its home. Huh. 

There's a tug on their finger, and they realize that the black cat has caught the ball of light again. 

They've been had. Oh well. They can let the cat have it for as long as the magic lasts. They disconnect the tendril of shadow, leaving the shadows wrapped around the ball to give it a little more substance. 

The cat they were petting earlier slips underneath their arm, and they blink before lowering their hand to pet it. It starts purring, and their eyes widen. "It's purring," they say.

Chloe laughs lightly. "You look like you're having fun."

"Mhm," they respond intelligently. 

"Not gonna lie, you look like a cat among cats," Gavin adds, mirth in his voice. "Either that, or you've been vanquished by them."

"Mm…"

"Gavin," Kamski says, "are you taking pictures?"

"Yep," Gavin answers, popping the 'p.'

Cion looks back towards Gavin to see him holding up his phone, a surprisingly fond smile on his face. They can't stop a smile from growing on their face, too.

"What," Gavin asks. "Also, fangs, shit." He pinches his fingers on the screen, likely zooming in. "They're so… small." 

"Well, only half of me is a vampire," Cion chuckles. "And you were… smiling. It was nice. We—we're glad you seem to like us."

A strange mix of expressions flit across Gavin's face. "Uh, yeah," he says, scratching the back of his head. "Well," he mumbles, looking somewhere off to the side, "you two are alright apart, and you're just… together. And, well, it makes you happy. You're not hurting anyone. It's… maybe a little weird, but maybe there isn't anything wrong with it."

Warmth blooms in their chest. They were afraid, they realize. Afraid that Gavin wouldn't accept them. They glance at Chloe and Kamski, too—Chloe is smiling gently, as if in approval, and Kamski has a pleased expression. 

Cion hides their face behind a cat. "Thank you," they say, relief clear in their voice. "Thank you."

It's at this moment that a Siamese cat jumps onto Gavin's head from behind, and he yelps in surprise. "Shit!" he curses, trying to reach up to lift it off, but it expertly slips through his hands, landing in his lap and making him produce a sound that can only be described as a squeak.

Kamski cackles, hiding his face behind his hand. "Ah, yes, you are ticklish, hm?"

"F-fuck you, Eli," Gavin gripes, making another grab at the cat. It jumps out of Gavin's lap to settle in Kamski's instead, and the vampire grins. 

"It seems I still have more cat affinity than you, brother." 

"Like hell! I'm the one that actually _has_ a cat. And she likes me!" 

Cion snickers, sitting up to watch Gavin attempt to preserve his dignity while Kamski heckles him. It's nice to spend this time with their family like this. And… maybe everything _is_ alright. Maybe they don't have to be afraid of who they are anymore. 

Maybe it's okay to just… be themselves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look... I love cats


	9. Shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflections on the past; Hank reacts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2685

After they finish at the cat cafe, while they're strolling out the door (the receptionist gave Cion a heavy squint, but didn't say anything) Gavin asks Cion if they want to meet up with Hank. 

"Like this?" They gesture vaguely to their body. "As Cion?"

Gavin pauses. "Probably as Connor and Nines, first. I told him it was your birthday yesterday, and… well, he didn't ask directly, but he did heavily imply that he'd like to see the two of you."

Huh. "Sure," they say. "When?"

And that is how they arrange to meet with Hank the next day. 

Gavin departs, trudging off to what is presumably his car. It's black and looks like it's semi-automated, but that's the extent of what Cion's car knowledge can tell him. 

The remaining three (four?) of them subsequently return to their house—Cion wants to try a spatial teleportation with all of them, and Kamski shrugs and gives them the go-ahead. 

It's strange, feeling out the destination. It's as though they become aware of the three-dimensional space of where they want to go. Then space folds into itself, bending to their will, and there they are in one of the halls. 

"Not bad at all." Kamski chuckles. "You truly are incredible. I wonder if I should be worried about you exerting too much influence on reality." A pause, and then: "Oh?" 

Cion turns to him and sees their mentor's eyes elsewhere. They follow his gaze to… a broken vase of iridescent black, shattered on the floor. There are more like it lining the hall, though that one is the only one broken.

"This wouldn't be your doing, would it? Any of you."

Cion opens their mouth and raises a finger. He doesn't recall pushing a vase off the pedestal, by accident or not, but… they think of yesterday's celebration, of North's suggestion of a dogpile, their alarm and surprise and—though he didn't recognize it at the time—a flare of magic. "... It may have been," Cion admits, lowering their finger and shuffling awkwardly. "Think our magic knocked it over yesterday when I was… surprised. I can fix it…"

"Wait." Kamski steps forward, two fingers lifted. He swirls them in a circular motion before lifting his other hand, black smoke coalescing and dissipating to reveal… liquid gold? 

The fragments of the vase float up and the gold flows towards it, lining the edges of the pieces, which then come together. The gold seams remain as the vase reassembles itself and settles on the pillar. It looks… surprisingly pretty.

"Kintsugi," Kamski says, running the backs of his fingers across the repaired vase. "The Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with seams of gold. Philosophically… it treats the breakage as part of the object's history. It is an embracing of imperfections. Acceptance of transience."

Cion blinks. "That's… really interesting," they say. "I'm… surprised, but also not? That you think this way. Would have thought you'd be a perfectionist."

Kamski gives them a wry smile. "Perhaps I was, once upon a time. Immortality gives you time to contemplate." He looks up to the ceiling. "Perfection, I believe, is impossible. Perhaps even undesirable. If anything were perfect, it would be nothingness. A blank slate." He sighs softly, looking down. "Time makes its mark on us all. Our experiences give us imperfections. And yet…" He looks back at them, smiling slightly. "Those very imperfections define who we are, carving out a self in the vastness of existence. They are not something to be shunned or hidden, but accepted as one of many things that make you, you."

"Huh…" Cion lets their gaze fall to the mended vase. "I… like that thought." They pause. "Do you often go on philosophical tangents, though?"

Chloe gives a snort that is still somehow dignified. "I spent twenty-one years with him," she says. "You get used to it."

The look Kamski gives Chloe looks almost betrayed. She laughs, bright. 

* * *

That night, after they unfuse, Nines looks up "kintsugi." He browses the Wikipedia page and watches a few YouTube videos while lying against his brother's side in bed. Connor is reading his book—the Sherlock Holmes with magic book. He seems to be enjoying it.

Kintsugi is… a fascinating idea, really. That brokenness is not an end, but part of a journey. A transformation. Not something to be ashamed of, but something to bear proudly.

"Do you think we broke, a bit, last winter?" Nines asks, locking his tablet screen. He remembers far too many details far too clearly: the demon, Connor's hands around his throat, hurting him, seeing Connor drive a blade through his own heart. He remembers the cold numbness as he let Connor take his blood, hoping but only half-believing that he'd wake up again.

Connor closes his book, mind thrumming with a swirl of thoughts. Nines sees glimpses in his mind—being himself and not himself, the  _ pain,  _ draining Nines, holding Nines's cold body in his arms, not knowing if he was dead. If Connor killed him. 

"Yes," Connor says. 

"Do you think we've healed?"

Connor hums softly. "I think so. Maybe not completely. Maybe just enough. But…"

"It changed us," Nines murmurs. "For better or worse. We filled in the cracks…"

"We filled in all the gaps in between us." Connor raises a hand to Nines's head, brushing through his hair. 

Nines melts against his brother's side, sighing contentedly. 

"Nines," Connor says quietly. "Do you think… we've become too close? Ever since I turned, I feel like—we've just careened towards each other. I'm happy, you're happy, but I don't think either of us expected to end up where we are now. Blending so much that we're actually one person, sometimes."

Nines opens his eyes, frowning. "I…" He turns around, wrapping his arms around his brother and burying his face against his shoulder. "I don't want to think so," he says, muffled.

"Neither do I," Connor murmurs, wrapping his arms around Nines. "I love you more than anything."

Nines closes his eyes. "Me too."

A faint question from Connor.  _ Can I…? _

_ Yes. Always. _

He feels Connor shift, and then there's a finger tugging down his collar. A puff of cool air against the exposed skin, and then Connor is sinking his fangs into Nines's neck.

Nines takes in a shuddering breath as the pleasant feeling rapidly chases away the momentary pain. He tenses and then relaxes, melting in Connor's embrace as his brother pulls his blood from him. 

He feels Connor's fear, his doubts. His hope that this is good for them, that there's nothing wrong with being so intertwined. That there's nothing wrong with him being so happy with this.

_ We were one before we were born,  _ Nines assures, soothing over the doubts with the cool fingers of his own mind.  _ I don't think anyone else can truly understand the depth of what we have. I'm me, and you're you, but we're also… us.  _

Connor bites just a little harder, making Nines twitch slightly, before returning to the same pressure as before.  _ Yeah… you're right. I'm just an anxious bean. _

Nines laughs breathily.  _ You are. Not that I'm one to talk. I suppose we just need to assure each other.  _

_ Might explain why Cion is so confident and self-assured. Generally. _

Nines hums.  _ Makes sense. Feels nice… to be together. _

_ Yeah…  _

Connor eventually unlatches himself, and Nines feels as boneless and content as always after a feeding. Connor arranges the blankets over him before getting up to turn off the lights. When he comes back and dives under the covers, Nines wraps all his limbs around his brother.

Connor snorts before doing the same. "Swear you get loopy off my venom. And maybe the psychic thing."

"Mmm," Nines hums, pulling himself even closer. He has no issue with this.

Connor sighs in exasperation, but by then, Nines is already drifting away.

* * *

They meet Hank and Gavin at a dog park.

Well. Actually, they meet Hank, Gavin, and Hank's dog.

"Dog!" Connor immediately calls out upon seeing the massive St. Bernard, practically bounding over to pet it. "Sumo, right? Ah, what a good boy!" Connor excitedly ruffles Sumo's ears.

Hank snorts from where he's sitting on a bench, Gavin next to him. Sumo  _ was _ lying on the ground near them, but perked up as soon as they approached, and is now panting excitedly at Connor's enthusiastic ministrations. 

"You did say that you like dogs," Hank remarks.

Connor nods vigorously. "Nines likes cats more, and we got to see a bunch yesterday. Not that I don't like cats! I like them a lot. I just like dogs more."

Nines approaches at a more sedate pace, speaking up once he's closer. "I find myself casually appreciative of dogs, myself. I particularly like the ones that more closely resemble wolves. Huskies… Shiba Inus."

"Shiba Inus are absolutely wonderful," Connor agrees. "But Sumo is," he gestures vaguely, "you know?"

Nines nods slowly, getting more of a vague impression of  _ I LOVE DOGS _ from Connor's mind than anything else. Well, that and  _ He's so big!  _ and  _ Oh my god he's such a good boy, just look at him!  _ and so forth.

He can't help the snort that escapes from him. Role reversal from yesterday. He turns to face Hank. "Hello, Hank," Nines says, giving him a nod. "Good to see you."

"Nice to see you too, Nines," Hank says, lifting a hand. He gestures to the empty space next to him on the bench. "Wanna sit?"

Nines nods and approaches, sitting down next to Hank with a respectful distance between them. 

After the demon Amanda case (Nines still can't bring himself to call her Demonda in his own mind), Hank had continued to check in on Nines and his brother. They've had a few awkward conversations with him sitting with them in one of the many living rooms of their home, in addition to him inviting them to chat over a few meals. Also slightly awkward, since Connor couldn't eat. He was trying his best. 

In any case, it was enough for them to call him… a friend? An acquaintance? Someone they're somewhat familiar with, at least. 

"So," Hank says, "Your birthday? Both of you since you're twins, yeah?" 

Nines nods. "Two days ago."

"And you… didn't tell anyone."

"We are not in the habit of doing so."

Hank gives Nines a look that he's not sure how to read. "Well," he says, reaching into his coat pockets, pulling out two small packages, "it ain't much, but I did get the two of you something."

Connor immediately looks up, surprised. "You don't have to, Hank—"

"It really isn't much, alright? Just take them." He hands them both to Nines. "Guess you can hold onto them since Connor's, uh, busy?"

Nines gives a single breathy laugh. "Of course. Thank you, Hank," he says, taking them and sliding them into his magic storage with a pulse of pale magic. 

"Really living the sorcerer life, huh," Hank remarks. "Hard to imagine that it hasn't even been a year."

Nines nods. "Mr. Kamski did say that we both took to magic alarmingly well."

"You're better with magic theory than me, though," Connor says. 

"True."

Gavin snorts. "How humble," he says. "What'd all of you do on your actual birthday, anyway? Never asked. Anything fun?"

"Yes," Nines answers. "Much of it was spent in the fae realm, as one of our friends is a Greater Fae and wanted to do… exciting things."

"By 'exciting,'" Connor says, still petting Sumo, "Nines means that she fought us in a duel. I mean, it  _ was  _ fun and exciting, but we also got stabbed and poisoned."

Hank chokes. "You what?"

"She healed us," Nines says. "Well. The poisoning aspect. We healed the stabbing part on our own. We're both immortal, after all, and Connor can tolerate pain fairly well."

"Hold on," Hank says, pinching his brow. "The two of you… fought a Greater Fae. You went toe-to-toe with a higher being."

"Mhm," Connor confirms, running a hand down Sumo's back. "Well," he exchanges a look with Nines, "together."

"A vampire getting stabbed can still be in pretty hot water. And I'm pretty sure, Nines, that getting stabbed is not a walk in the park even with your kind of immortality, especially if we're talking about the Greater Fae, here. They, uh, tend to be a bit… over-the-top when demonstrating their abilities."

Nines can definitely see that. Though he only knows one Greater Fae. In any case—now that it's come to this…  _ Do you want to tell him, Connor? _

Connor straightens, humming.  _ Yeah, sure.  _ He looks up at Hank before saying, "We fused."

Hank blinks. Blinks again. "You what?"

"We—well, mostly Nines—made a spell. It fuses our bodies and souls into one, combining our power and our personalities. Our very being."

Hank makes a wheezing sound. "You  _ made  _ a spell?"

"Same, Hank," Gavin says. "At this point I feel like I shouldn't be surprised by what they do."

"Wait, wait a second," Hank says, holding a hand out. "How does that even work? Is that safe?"

Gavin snorts. "I asked the same thing. The last part, at least."

"Of course it's safe," Nines says dryly. "Mr. Kamski watched over the process."

Hank relaxes just slightly. "Well, okay… but isn't that—kinda weird? You're your own people, I dunno if you should just… become one."

"We are split-soul twins," Nines retorts. "We were one in the first place."

"Well, yeah, but you're two now." Hank runs a hand through his hair. "Look, I know Connor feeds from you, and that's already a little… you know."

Connor glances at Nines, eyes narrowing slightly when they land back on Hank. "It's what."

Hank sighs. "It's really intimate, okay? I know vampire culture doesn't look at it the same way humans do, but you've gotta think about what it looks like from the outside."

"Hank," Gavin says, but Nines is already talking.

"What are you implying, Hank?" 

The lieutenant shifts uncomfortably. "That part's fine. It's not… abnormal, it's just kinda weird to my brain. But now you want to 'become one?' I don't know if—" he hesitates. "I don't know if you two love each other a little  _ too  _ much, you know?"

Nines feels a hot flash of something like anger, something like irritation. A similar feeling echoes from his brother. 

"Hank," Connor says, "We're not like that." He rises, Sumo making a soft whine as he abandons his ministrations. Nines does the same, meeting him halfway, standing in front of Hank. 

"I don't think you understand us." Connor meets Hank's eyes unflinchingly. "We hoped you would."

Hank swallows, glancing at Gavin. "C'mon, Gav, I can't be the only one who sees this."

"I," Gavin hesitates, "I really don't think you're getting the full picture. I mean, yeah, it's… weird. But they're not hurting anyone."

"If they're too dependent on each other, they could hurt themselves!"

Nines bites back a response, instead taking Connor's hand in his own.

_ Connor— _

_ Yes. _

Nines calls upon the spell, and from one moment to the next, they are one. Cion opens his eyes to see Hank looking at him, wide-eyed. 

"Hank," Cion says. "Connor and Nines are their own individual people, but they are also  _ us.  _ We… I am more than the sum of my parts." He lifts a hand to his chest. "We have been together since birth, we will be together for as long as our eternity lasts. Our deaths, too, will be intertwined." He lets his hand drop. "We are who we are, regardless of what you think. We are Connor and Nines, but we are also Cion."

"Well, shit," Hank breathes. He seems to gather himself. "But—you can't just rely on each other for everything."

"Not everything. But most things, yes. We always have. We always will."

"The two of you are  _ different people,"  _ Hank stresses. "You can't just—stay like this!"

The moment the words leave his mouth, he must see something in their face—he pales.

Gavin, too, stiffens. "Cion," he says warningly, but they cut him off.

"Watch me," Cion says, and vanishes in a fold of space. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _laughs_ if you thought it was going to stay smooth sailing, you thought wrong


	10. Singularity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 3323
> 
> Been a while, huh. End of the semester has not been easy djfsjhf
> 
> also the scene in the chapter art doesn't exactly match up with the actual written scene but, uh. I was too lazy to fix it sdkjsdjgsd

Cion is angry. 

It’s surprising, some part of them observes. Neither Connor or Nines tend to get angry about anything… except for each other, they suppose. 

Hm. 

The first thing they realize when they step out of their breach in space is that they're not anywhere they recognize. In fact, it doesn't even look or feel like a physical space—a completely white void filled with distorted, shimmering wavelengths. 

There's no sense of up or down, but as soon as the bolt of panic shoots through them, they find that they can stand as if on some invisible surface. 

Cion looks around, hand over his heart—racing relative to his usual, but still slow compared to Nines's regular heartbeat. 

Where are they? Cion didn't have a destination in mind when he tore through space, which he now realizes was probably a bad idea. He quickly raises a hand to try to teleport again, only to pause when all the wavelengths in the void react to them, shimmering like an iridescent sea as they gather their magic. 

They blink, tilting their head. What would happen if… 

Cion summons a white flame in his hand, and the rush of magic in him as he activates the spell feels— _intoxicating._ The magic in this plane seems to blend into his being, filling him with a sense of safety and power. It's incredible. 

It couldn't hurt to stay here a while longer, would it? They don't exactly feel like seeing anyone else right now, anyways. The anger in them still simmers underneath their curiosity. 

So they walk forward, footsteps making no sound, sea of wavelengths swirling around them. They feel so _powerful_ here—it feels like a place just meant for them, empty as it is. 

They pause at that thought. The concept seems familiar… hadn't Nines learned about this? Right, yes—the domains of higher beings. Some higher beings, such as Greater Fae, have their domains rooted in an existing reality, while others, such as high-class demons, have their own pocket of existence within the netherworld, in which reality can be bent to their whims. 

They've been to one. Demonda's. This feels… this feels like it could be something like that, so what if… 

Cion imagines a lake below his feet, perfectly smooth, perfectly mirrored. He raises his hands, calling on his magic and the magic around him, and the breath leaves him in a rush as the wavelengths bend and twist and form water under his feet. It swirls around him, as if hesitating, but it then pulses out around him, spreading as far as the eye can see. 

This is _creation._ Something where there was nothing—besides pure magic. And that's just it—pure magic can become anything, and they really _are_ able to manipulate it. In here, at least. 

A short, disbelieving laugh escapes them, and it has a strange insubstantial quality. They realize that it's the first sound they've made since arriving. Come to think of it, there technically isn't air in this void… it's the pure magic sustaining them. What was the composition of air again? Mostly nitrogen, and then there's oxygen, carbon dioxide… they think they have something close to the right numbers in their head, and the next time they breathe out, it feels like they breathe air into this strange reality. 

Water, air… he chuckles quietly to himself. Maybe he should add some earth and fire next. While he can stand on this mirror lake just fine, it'd probably be nice to have a place to sit. 

After a bit of pondering and finagling with the wavelengths, Cion manages to create a geometric island of polished stone and glass that wouldn't look terribly out of place in their house. Hmm. 

As for fire… Well, Earth has the sun. Except Nines detests the sun as much Connor likes it, and that creates a jarring dichotomy within them. Thinking about it makes their head hurt, so… 

Compromise. Cion creates a bunch of warm, glowing yellow particles that float softly in the air. It's not like they could create a star, anyway. Probably. Maybe. 

He steps onto the island from the lake, shoes clicking against the stone. Huh, come to think of it… they're once again wearing a strange fusion of the clothes Connor and Nines were wearing. Nines was wearing a geometric white shirt with wide black sleeves over his usual black turtleneck, despite the hot weather (nowadays he just cools himself with magic and wears whatever he wants, anyways) while Connor wore a gray blazer over a black dress shirt with a golden tie. It's become… well, interesting for sure. Their shirt's central portion resembles Nines's in shape, a light gray where it was originally white. It has an asymmetrical cut, though the sides and back are dark gray like Connor's blazer. They have two layers of sleeves—wide black sleeves, like Nines's, over gray form-fitting sleeves. There's a yellow… cravat? instead of Connor's tie at their collar, which is in the style of Connor's dress shirt, only higher-necked. They also have black pants, and slightly heeled black shoes. 

Interesting. 

They look around the island. It feels… empty. Maybe they could… 

Cion lifts a hand up and makes—plants. Not exactly, not actual living plants, though they think they could. They make grasses and mosses of golden light, vines of the same luminance. 

They kneel down, brushing their hands through the moss-grass-light. It's soft and warm, just the way they wanted it. They lie down in it, looking to the white void of the "sky."

Huh. One last thing, then. They lift their hand to the sky and call upon darkness, making it seem as though it were night. But with all the glowing particles and luminescent flora, it isn't dark at all. It's very nice, in fact. Nice enough for Cion to close his eyes and just _breathe._

Now that they're not preoccupied with creation, their thoughts spin back to the simmering emotions within them. 

That Hank would imply what they have to be something like _that_ —he doesn't understand them. He doesn't comprehend the depth of the bond between them, one that binds their lives and hearts and souls together. 

Cion supposes, really, it isn't any of Hank's business to know or presume anything about their personal life. And yet… they wanted him to know. They wanted him to see them, accept them, and he… didn't. 

Cion curls up on his side, sliding fingers through the golden light. They know that they aren't normal, in many ways. Anomalies in terms of their power, the nature of their existence. Especially with _this—_ they're still not entirely sure what's with this place, but they're pretty sure most people don't get a subdimensional sandbox. If that's what it is.

They're anomalies, too, in the way they're so close to each other. It's completely understandable that Hank—or anyone else, for that matter—doesn't understand them. But it still hurts. They wanted him to. He was nice. They liked—no, they still like him. That's why it hurts. 

They hiss out a breath between their teeth, pressing their hands to their face, only to lower them when something prods at the edge of their awareness. They blink, sitting up and looking around. It happens again, and they frown. If they had to describe it, it would almost be like someone was knocking on their door—and maybe that's exactly it?

"Um," they say, "Come in?" 

Then there's another presence—one startlingly familiar, one that makes them teleport away and into a standing position, magic dancing at their fingers. The air before them shimmers with an insubstantial form, with wavelengths of crimson magic. 

_"Demonda?"_ they say without thinking too much about it. 

There's a noticeable pause. 

_"Demonda,"_ a voice without a voice repeats. 

Ah. Cion hides his face. "Sorry, that's what Connor calls you in his head, and for us, it just… mm." He peeks through his fingers. "It… _is_ you, right? The demon that, um…"

_"Almost killed you? Yes. You can call me Demonda if you please, in any case. I go by many names."_

Cion nods slowly, lowering his hands. "Right. Why are you…" 

_"Here?"_ The crimson wavelengths shimmer. If Cion squints, he thinks he can make out vague impressions of horns, wings, many limbs. _"I have my own unmoored reality, and within it I often idly cast out my senses for other pockets of existence. I sensed a new realm being built, and the magic felt familiar. So I came."_

"Huh…" Cion tries to focus on the demon's form, but it makes his head hurt. "Do you have a physical form or anything?" they ask, casting their gaze to the side. "You just seem like a bunch of crimson wavelengths."

 _"Wavelengths…? Hmm."_ A pause. _"I have no natural physical form. If you wish to grant me one in your domain, you could."_

Cion hesitates. 

_"If you are concerned, I assure you I have no intention to harm you. It would simply make interacting in your realm easier."_

Fair enough, Cion supposes—it helps that demons are bound by their words. They lift a hand visualizing a vague form in their mind, trying to capture that vague image they can somewhat make out. The wavelengths solidify into a black, humanlike silhouette, lined with shifting crimson markings. The form wavers and distorts before large black wings and horns emerge from it, and six arms unfold from the body. The lower half simply looks like a black robe with angular markings.

Darkness drapes across the silhouetted shoulders, forming something like a shawl, and then—three slits on the face open, three solid crimson eyes, with one in the center. There's no mouth, but they're sure that a smile would reveal a gash of jagged red.

"Interesting," the demon says. The voice sounds faintly feminine, faintly like Amanda's. She(?) observes her form, looking at her hands. "So this is what you think of me. Strongly influenced by Amanda's traits, I see… I do not mind if you think of me as her, or some version of her. I was given the essence of her existence as a root to reality once, after all."

Cion nods, lacing their fingers together. "Right…" 

Demonda turns her attention back to them, eyes narrowing slightly. "It seems I was right. The two of you are now one, I see. Such a union… very interesting indeed. Is it permanent?"

Cion shakes his head. "No, it's reversible, but… we don't want to unfuse."

"Is that so?" Demonda drifts closer to them, and they can't help tensing slightly. She stops a ways off. "Well, you are essentially the master of this little pocket of reality. This is a place for you to do as you wish." She chuckles a strange, echoing laugh. "Truly, I did not expect this to come of you. I do wonder… your existence is a strange one." She reaches one of her hands towards them, a crimson claw pointed to their chest. "Are you an anomaly created by coincidence or intent?"

Cion frowns slightly, lifting a hand to cover their chest. "I don't know. We weren't even born magical."

"Now that would be false." Demonda lowers her hand and drifts through the field of golden flora. "Humans call you advents, yes? You are born with magic. You simply were not born with the knowledge and ability to access it." 

Cion nods. "Right…" 

"Did you have another sibling in the womb?" Demonda asks, and Cion blinks at the non-sequitur. 

"No…? We don't think so."

"Hm." Demonda continues forward. 

They can't help their curiosity. "Why?"

"Human souls are full of potential energy, so to speak," Amanda says. "Especially those of newborns. That is why they are so desirable. The power they can offer can be transformative, depending on how the souls are used. If there was another sibling among you—if it was dying, you could have absorbed its soul, combining its potential power with your own." 

Suddenly, Amanda is in front of them, a hand placed on their chest. They stare into crimson eyes. "If it were necessary for me to guess a course of events… it is very possible that your singular, original soul absorbed that of your sibling. For mundane humans, the effects are typically unknown to them, but for brand new magical souls… perhaps it was the cause of instability that split you into two once more." 

Cion blinks. Blinks again. "I…" They don't know what to say to that. What to feel. Grief, loss? For a possible sibling they'd never known, who might've been the catalyst for the very nature of their existence? Regret, for something they might've done before they were even born?

Demonda steps away, folding her arms back. "Well, that is simply one possibility. Truly fascinating to consider. How did you discover this place?"

Cion blinks a few times, thrown by the rapid change in topic. They feel like they can barely get their feet on the ground before the rug is pulled out again. "I… I ran? I was mad… Hank wasn't happy with our existence."

"Hmm." Demonda watches them. "Do you know how long you have been here?"

"... No?"

"You are aware that time does not flow consistently between different dimensions, yes? I suppose this one is close to the mundane realm, so the dilation should not be too extreme." She hums, looking to the sky. "Someone is looking for you."

She vanishes in the blink of an eye, and in the next moment, they feel a tug—like a string of wavelengths pulled taut on their soul. And those wavelengths feel… familiar— 

They jump as a gash is carved into their realm, and from it emerges—North, in her fae form, leafy wings spread wide, brows furrowed, frowning severely. As soon as her eyes land on them, she inhales sharply, pupils narrowing to razor-thin slits. "Cion."

"North," Cion returns. 

She marches over to them, grabbing their wrist. "Where the hell have you been?"

Cion flinches back on instinct, jerking their arm towards their chest. It doesn't budge in North's grip, but surprisingly, she lets go after only a moment. "I-I've just been here," they say, gaze off to the side, holding their arm close. "I—I think it might be my… reality sandbox, or something…"

North doesn't respond for a few seconds. And then, "You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me. Did you make all this?"

Cion nods, still looking somewhere to the side, hand cradled to their chest. 

A heavy sigh. "Great. Congratulations, you probably count as a higher being. But really. People are worried. You should come back to the mundane realm."

Right. Cion nods. "Okay…"

"Do you know how to get back?"

Cion looks up to see North watching them, arms crossed. "Um," they stall. "I think so? The same way I got in, I figure."

North sighs and offers a hand. "Things might work out better if I take you."

"Okay," Cion says again, and slips his hand into hers. In the next moment, reality is being carved open, and they are— 

At the front door of their house. But before doing anything, they're overwhelmed with a sudden vertigo, legs folding under them as the world spins. 

"Shit!" Hands grab onto them, keeping them from falling over, and they can do nothing but let themselves sag against the support, eyes falling shut. 

Pounding. "Hey, open up! I got them!"

A door opening, voices. 

"What happened?" Tense. Worried?

"Mr. Kamski?" they mumble. 

"Cion." They're passed from one grip to another—from one inhumanly warm to one inhumanly cold. Fingers brush the hair out of their face. 

"They were in their own subdimensional domain—which they apparently have. I guess I can say, 'congratulations, it's a demigod!' or something like that, now. They made a pretty little world, too, but as you can see, it's probably taken a lot out of them. That, and leaving a pocket universe saturated with your magic to one that isn't can be a bit of a system shock."

Kamski sighs heavily. "What am I going to do with you?" 

"Sorry," they mumble. The world is starting to reorient itself, and they tighten their grip where they realize they're loosely holding onto Kamski's robes. Their legs still feel a bit like jelly and they still feel rather lightheaded, but at least they can stand up properly. "How long has it been?"

"Six days," Kamski says, and Cion stills. 

The last time they disappeared… They look up and see the tightness in Kamski's face. The sight causes a sensation almost like pain in their heart. "We're sorry," Cion says. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be gone for so long, it didn't even feel like that long, we just… we were just…" their gaze drops.

"You just what, Cion?" 

Their shoulders hike up slightly. "We were upset," they say, "by what Hank said. By what he implied. We were… mad. We just wanted to be alone together for a bit…" 

Kamski adjusts his grip—still on their shoulders, they realize. They tense, unsure of what he'll say, how he'll react, if he's mad— 

They're enveloped in a hug before their thoughts can careen into a trainwreck. 

"I'm glad you're safe," Kamski murmurs. He shifts his head slightly—probably to look at North, they realize when he says, "Thank you for bringing them back. I can offer you—"

"No need," North interrupts. "They're a friend. Cion?"

Cion straightens at their name, turning slightly to face North. She tightens her lips in something that might be a smile. "I'm relieved to see you're okay, too. Don't be a stranger, alright? Send us all a message later." 

"Okay," Cion says softly. 

North smiles that tight smile again, and vanishes in a distortion of reality. 

"How are you feeling, Cion?" they hear, and realize that Chloe is also here. Cion turns to face her—she's smiling gently, unruffled, welcoming. 

"We're…" Cion hesitates. "We're tired," they admit, letting their gaze drop to the floor. 

There's a cool touch on their arm, and they let Chloe guide them further inside, even as they lean on Kamski. "Alright," Chloe murmurs. "We can talk later," she says pointedly—Cion catches her looking at Kamski, who nods slightly. "Do you want something to eat? Or blood to drink? Or would you like to rest immediately?" 

The mere mention of food is enough to make them suddenly aware of their hunger. "M-maybe a bit of both?" they ask meekly, hand over their stomach. "If that's okay."

"Of course it's okay, Cion," Chloe says gently. "Come on, I'll make something for you."

Chloe ends up making a vegetable broth—they sip chilled blood from a pouch as they wait for her to finish. It's not that good, but they do feel much better after drinking it. 

Kamski hovers by them as they work on the soup, ready to be a support if necessary. And it's a good thing he does—not too long after they finish the broth, warmth spreading through them, they find it harder and harder to keep their eyes open. They slump over before they realize it, but Kamski catches them before they faceplant on the table. 

They mumble something that might be a thanks, and Kamski might say something in return, but they're too out of it to hear. They feel the familiar darkness of a shadow-step surround them, and then they're being laid on a soft surface. Their bed, they realize, when Kamski tosses their blanket over them and brushes their hair back.

"Demonda visited," they mumble. The hand on their head stops. "In our realm. She said… we might've eaten another sibling's soul, before we were born. She said… it might've been what made me, _us."_ Cion sniffs, and there's a touch on their cheeks—wiping away tears? "Hank didn't like us either… Why does it feel like we shouldn't exist? We just want to be together, happy together…"

"It's alright, Cion," Kamski says softly. "Rest for now." He brushes their hair back again, and they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of art this chapter :> here's some concept art for Demonda's form in Cion's pocket dimension and Cion's outfit for today. Yes, they have a cravat, they cannot escape their extraness.  
>    
> Open in another tab for fullview!
> 
> Chapter art: [dA](https://sta.sh/01bhkjpmimms)
> 
> In regards to Demonda's "theory"... I've been thinking about it for a while. I think it's very possible that originally, Cion's original soul and the soul of who might've been Sixty were twins in the womb, but Sixty was dying and Cion absorbed his soul. For normal human souls, the result could be an unnatural gift such as extreme luck, but since they were all advent sorcerers, the magic in the souls reacted to create something more than a single human body can handle, which led to the splitting of Cion into Connor and Nines. Still, consuming that soul gave both of them much more power than any normal sorcerer would have, due to the combination of strong soul chemistry and the sheer potential energy of a not-even-born soul.  
> Perhaps.
> 
> Also, Lun said that Demonda basically did the higher being equivalent of greeting the new neighbors and I lost it because it's so true

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to know when things will update, check out my to-do list [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/14mF6Rm_CTutT-3XSqsCcDDv2vyKzEoc0RNywZlKxD3g/edit#gid=1114913519)!
> 
> Check me out on social media: [](https://www.deviantart.com/ausp-ice) | [](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com) | [](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice) | [](https://www.instagram.com/ausp.icium)
> 
> I'm also in [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) server! I have my own channel if you'd like to yell at me or just talk.
> 
> For art relevant to this fic/universe, see tags on my [Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/ausp-ice/gallery?catpath=%2F&edit=0&q=%23chrysalismdbh) or [Tumblr](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/tagged/chrysalism-dbh).


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